


Begin Again

by smokeymonster



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Dogs, Eventual Smut, Except Merlin, F/M, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Harry Hart as Arthur, Harry and Merlin are best bros, Kinda, M/M, Merlin (Kingsman) Lives, Merlin is a Little Shit (Kingsman), Minor Character Death, Misunderstandings, Oblivious Eggsy Unwin, Oblivious Harry Hart, Pining Eggsy Unwin, Pining Harry Hart, Post-Kingsman: The Golden Circle, Rating will change, Roxy Morton | Lancelot Lives, So much angst though, The Author Regrets Everything, all the kingsman and statesman agents are soft as fuck, eggsy and roxy are best bros, if you read the summary you already know who it is, rebuilding kingsman, this will have a semblance of a plot, tilde gets the short end of the stick in this sorry not sorry, unhappily married!eggsy, unhappily married!tilde
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-09-16 00:30:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16943610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smokeymonster/pseuds/smokeymonster
Summary: Harry’s skin crawled as he almost didn’t recognise the person standing in front of him: Eggsy’s face was paper white, his normally vibrant eyes were dull and sunken, and his hair was stuck down to his forehead with sweat. The entire left sleeve of his powder-blue suit jacket was black and shiny with blood, and blood dripped from the fingertips of his left hand even as Harry watched, and no wonder, considering the large shard of shrapnel sticking out of the back of Eggsy’s left shoulder. The rest of Eggsy’s suit was torn, singed, and stained in several places. All in all, the normally boisterous young man looked fit for a date with the Grim Reaper.‘The king and queen of Sweden are dead, Tilde has suffered a serious head injury, an’ Roxy is alive,’ Eggsy stated flatly, before he all but collapsed into Harry’s arms.(Or: The completely self indulgent, cliche-ridden post-TGCHartwin-get-together fix it that I desperately need to get out of my system.)





	1. In with a Bang

**Author's Note:**

> Exactly what it says in the summary and tags. My first contribution to this site and to the Kingsman fandom. This was honestly originally meant to be a sexy humour fic but then I started writing and all that came out was angst and I still dunno what happened. And yes, this will be completely _TGC_ compliant.
> 
> Note: I'm Canadian, and this isn't Britpicked. So although I'm gonna try my darnedest to adhere to British spellings and grammatical conventions, I'm sure I'm gonna fuck up somewhere, so please call me out when I do so I can avoid making the same mistakes in the future. Ta! (lol i'm so witty)
> 
> Anyways, let's get this show on the road. The first chapter is basically all setup, so bear with.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Swedish Royal House crashes and burns, Roxy has a rough day at work, and Harry gets an unexpected visitor.

No, decided Harry Hart, codename Arthur, as he stared into the void of his fourth bottomed martini glass, getting shot point blank in the face hadn’t been nearly as bad as this.

He sat at the bar that had been set up for Eggsy Unwin and Crown Princess Tilde’s wedding reception, inside the church which would soon see Eggsy become the newest member of the Swedish Royal House. Having arrived in the company of the Statesman agents about an hour earlier, Harry had performed the minimum amount of socialising that he had thought appropriate at such an event, then had retreated at his earliest opportunity to the bar. He hadn’t attempted to find Eggsy.

‘Another, sir?’ the bartender asked, relieving Harry of his empty glass.

‘Yes, if you don’t mind,’ Harry answered, musing momentarily at the unintentional irony of a house of God serving alcohol. Not that he wasn’t thanking God for this small mercy. He had remained composed through the course of the wedding preparations, even managing to feel happiness and pride for his former protege as the young man had set out to marry the love of his life, but with the ceremony now definitively, inarguably here, Harry was feeling his spirits sink like a lead balloon. Hence why he was currently attempting to drown his sorrows in not-quite-perfectly made martinis.

‘Here you are, sir.’

The bartender handed Harry a fresh martini, to which Harry muttered a half-hearted ‘Thank you,’ wondering how many more drinks it would take to at least somewhat numb the burning feeling in his chest. His thoughts were cut short, however, as an altogether too-familiar voice rang out behind him, catching Harry so off guard, he just about spilled his martini onto the bartop.

‘Harry! There you are!’

Recomposing himself, Harry turned slowly in his seat, his gaze falling onto the approaching figure of the man who had managed to become simultaneously Harry’s reason for living and the cause of his greatest suffering.

‘Eggsy,’ Harry said, forcing a warm smile onto his face.

Eggsy regarded him with a mixture of relief and annoyance. ‘I’ve been lookin’ everywhere for you!’ he said accusingly. ‘What’re you doin’ here all by yourself?’

‘Celebrating,’ Harry lied, raising his glass at Eggsy.

‘Well, it’s a bit early, innit?’ Eggsy asked. ‘I ain’t even married yet.’

Though Eggsy’s tone had turned teasing, Harry could see a definite shadow of unease on the young man’s face, though Harry hadn’t the slightest clue what Eggsy could possibly have to be uneasy about on what was supposed to be the happiest day of his life.

‘Harry, could I talk to you?’ Eggsy asked then, confirming Harry’s suspicions. ‘In private?’

Harry nodded, rising immediately and following Eggsy into a small room off the side of the nave. The room turned out to be a dressing room, complete with a large full-length mirror, and Harry wondered if Eggsy had been hiding in here this entire time.

Eggsy shut the door behind them, before turning to look at Harry with what was now pure anguish in his eyes. ‘Look, I dunno how else to put this, so I’m just gonna come out an’ say it like it is, yeah?’ he said, looking more and more upset by the second.

‘You can tell me absolutely anything, Eggsy,’ Harry said encouragingly, though he was now beginning to wonder if there was serious cause for concern.

‘Don’t say that, ’cause you ain’t gonna like what you’re about to hear.’ Eggsy paused, then took a deep breath. ‘Harry, I — I’m havin’ second thoughts about marryin’ Tilde.’

Harry’s breath caught in his throat, but he recovered in a fraction of a second, immediately scolding himself for having allowed himself to entertain for a moment the idea that Eggsy’s misgivings were being caused by anything other than a classic case of cold feet. What Eggsy needed now was support and reassurance, not a foolish old man’s fantasies.

‘Eggsy, it is perfectly normal to have second thoughts on the day of the wedding,’ Harry therefore told the younger man gently. ‘You are under a lot of stress. There is a lot of responsibility on your shoulders to ensure the wedding goes smoothly. Plus, it must feel like your entire life is about to get turned on its head.’

‘Well, it is, innit?’ Eggsy snapped. ‘Everything’s about to go “tits up”, as you’d put it. I have no idea what the fuck I’m doin’ here, dressed to the nines with medals pinned to me like some fuckin’ war hero, looking like a complete arsehole who’s just, like, _cosplayin’_ a prince or somethin’, who thought it’d be great fun to sneak into a real princess’s weddin’ an’ see if anyone fuckin’ notices he doesn’t actually belong there.’

Harry listened to Eggsy’s outburst without interruption and, once Eggsy had finished, simply said, ‘Eggsy, do you love Tilde?’

‘Yes, of course,’ Eggsy said immediately, his brows furrowing in clear confusion at Harry’s question.

‘And do you wish to spend the rest of your life with her?’ Harry continued.

‘Yes … I think so,’ Eggsy said, looking no less confused.

‘Then why, may I ask, should anything else matter?’ Harry finished, offering Eggsy a supportive smile and finding himself in more pain than he preferred to admit.

Eggsy didn’t say anything for a few moments, instead looking intently into Harry’s face like he was trying to find some hidden meaning there. It seemed he didn’t find it though, because the next moment he said, ‘So you can’t think of any reason why I shouldn’t marry Tilde? No reason at all?’

_Because I love you. Because I wish you would be with me instead,_ Harry thought. But because he was not so cruel as to ruin his dearest friend’s wedding, ‘None whatsoever,’ he said.

This seemed to put whatever had been eating away at the younger man to rest, and he nodded in resignation, though — and Harry knew he could very well be imagining this — Eggsy didn’t look very happy.

‘And for the record, I think you look quite dashing in that uniform,’ Harry offered then, attempting to lighten the mood.

It worked like a charm, Eggsy’s hazel-blue eyes brightening immediately as he flashed Harry one of his signature wicked smiles — the ones that regularly made Harry forget how to breathe.

‘ _Do ya now?_ ’ the soon-to-be prince asked lecherously, with a cocky wink aimed at the older man.

‘Oh, yes,’ Harry said with a chuckle. ‘I’m sure you will take Tilde’s breath away.’

‘Oh … right,’ Eggsy said, sobering visibly, his gaze dropping to focus on his shoes instead.

There was a moment of somewhat awkward silence between the two spies, each lost in his own thoughts, until finally Eggsy looked back up at Harry and said, ‘I hope you know I wouldn’t be standin’ here right now if it wasn’t for you, Har. If it wasn’t for what you said to me on the jet over to Poppy Land.’

‘Which part, exactly?’ Harry asked.

‘The stuff about how havin’ somethin’ to lose makes life worth livin’,’ Eggsy said. ‘Did you mean that?’

‘Absolutely,’ Harry answered. _And you remind me of that fact every moment of every day, my dear._

‘Well, I think we should drink to that then,’ Eggsy said, bending suddenly to open the small cabinet at his feet and withdrawing two glasses and a bottle of Kingsman’s own Scotch whisky, which he placed on the small silver tray which sat atop the cabinet. ‘Snuck this in here when I got to the church — early weddin’ present from Merlin.’

‘Mm,’ Harry said appreciatively, as Eggsy poured some of the amber liquid into the glasses.

They drank a toast to a ‘Cheers’ from Harry, and just as Harry was beginning to think Eggsy had finally been sufficiently reassured, Eggsy screwed up his face and said, ‘Are you sure I don’t look like a dick?’

Harry clicked his tongue exasperatedly. ‘Look in the mirror,’ he said, putting down his glass and turning around.

Eggsy obliged him by putting down his own glass and going to stand in front of the great full-length mirror, though he looked completely unenthused by the idea. Harry came to stand at Eggsy’s shoulder, so close their hands were practically touching, and smiled at his love’s reflection, his first genuine smile of the day.

‘What do you see?’

 

* * *

 

Gary ‘Eggsy’ Unwin, codename Galahad, Prince of Sweden, snored loudly in one of the large armchairs inside the second drawing room of the third floor of the Swedish Royal Family’s private cottage, which had been the official residence of the prince and princess of Sweden for a little over a year now.

The cottage, which Eggsy thought hardly deserved that name, considering that it was actually a four-storey mansion (though taking into account the fact that Tilde’s previous residence had been an honest-to-God fucking _castle_ , yeah, Eggsy could see how this could be considered a cottage in comparison), stood in twenty-seven acres of woodland in a rural area of central Sweden, not far from the Norwegian border. This location for their home had been chosen by the royal couple entirely due to the level of privacy that it offered, though other privacy-ensuring measures had had to be taken as well, such as the decision to not have live-in staff. All in all, Eggsy and Tilde had managed to become well known in the Swedish media as ‘the most reclusive royal couple in recent history’.

Not that that prevented them from getting unwelcome visitors every once in a while.

‘Eggsy.’

Someone was shaking his shoulders gently, which he chose to ignore.

‘ _Eggsy._ ’

There was a definite hint of annoyance in the voice now, and the shaking was becoming less and less gentle.

‘ _EGGSY!_ ’ the voice practically yelled, and Eggsy found himself being thrashed violently against the back of the armchair.

He opened his eyes lazily.

Tilde’s face was inches away from his, her expression stern and her eyes steely. Upon seeing that Eggsy was finally awake, she let go of his shoulders, straightened up, and crossed her arms confrontationally.

‘I can’t believe you,’ she said, her voice quivering with barely contained anger. ‘You _know_ what day it is, and yet here you are _napping in the drawing room_ when you know the Prime Minister will be arriving in less than an hour!’

‘Oh … _shit_ ,’ Eggsy said, sitting up immediately and stretching his achy limbs. He _did_ know what day it was — the first Tuesday of the month, the day each month that he and Tilde hosted a social dinner for Tilde’s parents and the Swedish Prime Minister and her husband. And it wasn’t like Eggsy had forgotten to get ready — he was already wearing one of his Kingsman-issue suits. But there was no denying the fact that he could currently hardly keep his eyes open. ‘Sorry, T,’ he continued, ‘but you know that I _just_ got back from that shitshow in Brazil. I don’t think you realise how fuckin’ jetlagged I still am.’

‘I don’t need your excuses, Eggsy,’ Tilde snapped. ‘At least try to stay awake for the dinner, will you? Or is even that too much to ask?’

‘Dunno,’ Eggsy ground out, feeling his temper on the rise now as well, ‘guess it depends on if it’s gonna be as _mind-numbingly borin’_ as these things normally are.’

‘Oh, unfortunately, I’m sure it _will_ be,’ Tilde said, her voice suddenly dripping with resentment, ‘but don’t worry, at least you won’t have to endure much more of your _‘boring’_ life with me, right?’

Eggsy hadn’t expected that, and his face must’ve told Tilde as much, because her eyes widened suddenly, and her lips parted in silent shock.

‘Oh, Jesus, Eggsy, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,’ she said quickly, her hands curling and uncurling anxiously.

Eggsy shook his head. ‘Forget it, T. I know you didn’t mean it. Besides, we both know we’ve said nastier things to each other than that.’

It wasn’t exactly a positive thing, but it still made Tilde crack a small, bittersweet smile. ‘We really fucked this up, huh?’ she said, her voice full of melancholy.

‘Nah,’ Eggsy said right away, reaching out and taking Tilde’s hand. ‘Nah, we didn’t fuck nothin’ up. Don’t … Don’t think of this as a failed marriage. Think of it as a very _good_ marriage, but a very good marriage that … will last only a year.’

Tilde sniffed, and smiled a little more widely. ‘You always know how to spin it, don’t you?’

‘I try,’ Eggsy said, delivering one of his flirty winks.

Tilde clicked her tongue at him. ‘Don’t get cheeky with me, mister. We still have business to attend to, remember? What I came to tell you in the first place was that the Prime Minister texted me to let us know they’ll be taking off in about half an hour. So whatever you do, do _not_ fall back asleep.’

‘I won’t, I won’t,’ Eggsy said with an exasperated laugh.

Tilde gave him a glare of mock distrust, before freeing her hand from his grip and using it to muss up his perfectly styled dirty-blond hair.

‘Oi!’ Eggsy cried out, immediately trying to undo the damage.

‘Deal with it,’ Tilde said, before leaning down and planting a kiss in Eggsy’s hair instead. ‘I’m going to go tell my mum and dad what the Prime Minister said. Be right back.’

Tilde left the room, and Eggsy settled back down in his armchair, set on not falling back asleep, but still bored out of his mind. In his boredom, his gaze drifted out the south-west-facing window on his left, from which he could plainly see the flower garden which surrounded the mansion, separated from the rest of the mansion’s property by a short, mostly decorative brick fence. Two gates allowed access into the garden, one at the front of the mansion, which allowed access from the drive, and one at the back, which allowed access from the helipad. A security guard was posted at all times at each gate, as well as at each of the three street entrances onto the main grounds. The guards were the only staff who remained on the grounds twenty-four seven, though they were generally not allowed inside the house.

After watching the guard at the front garden gate kick absentmindedly at a clump of grass for a few minutes, Eggsy let his gaze wander up the driveway and up to the great ornate metal gate which marked the main entrance onto the grounds. Unlike the garden fence, the tall wrought-iron fence of which the main gate was part, and which ran around the entire property, was every bit as functional as it was beautiful, keeping trespassers — and the occasional paparazzo hoping to snatch a candid shot of ‘Prince Gary watering a gardenia’ — off the grounds. Of course, that was also the job of the main gate’s guard, except …

Eggsy frowned. His sleep-addled brain had just picked up on the fact that the main gate’s guard wasn’t actually at their post. Not that a guard going missing from their post for a couple minutes was entirely unusual — perhaps a shift rotation was underway, or perhaps the guard had stepped into the closest bush for a pee — but even so, Eggsy decided that he better keep an eye on the gate for the time being, since apparently no one else was.

The prince’s attention was diverted, however, when a black dot appeared on the south-west horizon, too low in the sky to be anything other than a helicopter, which could only mean the Prime Minister and her husband’s imminent arrival. But hadn’t Tilde told Eggsy that the Prime Minister would only be departing from Stockholm in half an hour? Eggsy’s frown deepened. Of course, it had likely just been a miscommunication on the Prime Minister’s part, or perhaps Eggsy had simply misheard Tilde, and yet … _something_ about seeing that helicopter had put Eggsy on alert. He noted again the concerning absence of the guard at the main gate, then took some consolation in the fact that the guard at the front garden gate was at least still kicking grass aimlessly, and then finally decided to be safe rather than sorry and check the CCTV feeds from _all_ the gates on the property.

He picked up his iPad, which he had left lying on the coffee table beside his armchair, and used it to access the mansion’s sophisticated surveillance system. Scrolling past the video feeds from inside the house, he reached the ones from outdoors and pulled up the live feeds from the five security gates.

Both garden gates had a guard present.

The three street gates were abandoned.

‘What the fuck …?’ Eggsy muttered under his breath. Had he _actually_ caught the guards in the middle of a fucking shift rotation? Should he speak with one of the ones at the garden fence and find out? He looked out the window again. The helicopter was now close enough for him to hear it as well as see it, probably less than a minute away.

A momentary flash of movement on the iPad screen caught Eggsy’s eye, but when he looked back down, all the feeds looked completely unchanged.

And then he noticed it.

The guard at the back garden gate was now gone as well.

‘OK, what the _actual_ fuck?’ Eggsy said, rising from his seat, his eyes glued to the iPad. He thought briefly about how he needed his pistol. Where was his pistol? Oh, right: in his stash of Kingsman equipment hidden in his and Tilde’s bedroom. Out into the corridor and to the left. Not far, but farther than he’d currently like it to be.

A flash of movement again, but this time, Eggsy saw it. Watched helplessly as a small hooded and masked figure burst into the frame of the feed from the front garden gate and in about five seconds flat overpowered the much larger security guard, snapped his neck, concealed his body in the gardenias, and then vaulted over the front garden gate using a manoeuvre that Eggsy was pretty sure he himself had learned at Kingsman during his training days.

‘ _Fuck,_ ’ Eggsy stated, dropping the iPad onto the armchair and making to turn for the door. And that was when it struck him, like a bolt of electric shock: _the helicopter_. The helicopter, which from the sound of it was just seconds from passing over the house, had come in from the south west. Stockholm was to the south east of the cottage. Therefore, the helicopter couldn’t have come from Stockholm, which meant that _it didn’t belong to the Prime Minister_.

‘Hello, Eggsy, we’re back.’

Eggsy turned towards the door to see Tilde and the king and queen of Sweden enter the drawing room and then turned back to the window just in time to see the helicopter fire a small missile at the house.

‘ _TILDE, GET DOWN,_ ’ Eggsy bellowed, launching himself at the princess and tackling her to the ground just as the missile collided with the outer wall of the house and everything around them turned to deafening chaos …

Eggsy’s ears were ringing, ringing so hard he couldn’t hear himself think. He opened his eyes, blinking rapidly against the clouds of dust billowing in the air around him. He could barely see, but he knew that he was lying on the floor, on top of Tilde. Slowly, he made to get up, but was immediately hindered by a sharp stabbing pain in his left shoulder. Dreading what he was about to discover, he turned to look at his back …

A large shard of sheet metal had perforated the back of his shoulder, from the looks of it just where the humerus met the scapula. Eggsy swore under his breath, knowing from the feeling of wet warmth spreading over his left upper arm that he was already bleeding profusely. He experienced an almost instinctive desire to rip the piece of shrapnel clean from his body, but suppressed it, reminding himself that all that would achieve would be making himself bleed out even faster.

Taking some solace in the knowledge that if it weren’t for his reinforced Kingsman suit, the piece of metal would’ve likely taken his arm clean off, Eggsy finally forced himself to sit up and look around. The dust was clearing by now, clearing very quickly in fact due to the fact that the explosion had taken off most of the front wall of the house. The helicopter was no longer in sight, but Eggsy could still hear it, circling, and he was suddenly reminded that he, Tilde, and the king and queen were currently completely exposed to the outside.

‘T, come on, we gotta get outta —’ Eggsy began, looking down at his wife for the first time since the explosion.

But he never finished his sentence. Feeling his stomach fill with liquid ice, he realised that Tilde wouldn’t be going anywhere. While Eggsy’s shoulder had been partially protected from the assaulting shrapnel by his suit, Tilde’s head had stood no chance, as the three small, seeping shrapnel holes in her forehead now plainly told Eggsy.

‘Fuck, Tilde, no …’ Eggsy whispered, trying to think quickly, which was becoming increasingly difficult with all the blood he was currently losing. Right: he needed to get Tilde out of this room, and he needed to apply Alpha-Gel as soon as humanly possible. The Alpha-Gel was in his Kingsman stash in his and Tilde’s bedroom, so it made the most sense to bring Tilde directly there. But how in the fuck was he supposed to carry Tilde when one of his arms felt like it was about to fall off? He considered his options, and decided that the one-armed over-the-shoulder carry was his only viable choice.

Setting his jaw in preparation for the pain he was about to endure, Eggsy pulled Tilde into a sitting position and then hoisted her up and over his right shoulder. Placing his right arm behind her knees for support, he stood up and turned towards the door.

His insides performed a somersault as his gaze fell onto the bodies of Tilde’s parents … or rather, what remained of the bodies. Without reinforced clothes to protect them, the king and queen had suffered the full force of the rain of shrapnel, and unsurprisingly, the results had been catastrophically fatal. Recognising that the mangled, twisted remains were beyond the help of any amount of Alpha-Gel or nanites, Eggsy forced himself to concentrate again on Tilde, a life he could still save. So, ignoring the screaming pain in his left shoulder, he carried Tilde out into the third-floor corridor …

Where the very floor beneath his feet suddenly _slid to the side_ as the entire house rocked on its foundations with an obscene groan.

‘ _Fuck … me …_ ’ Eggsy breathed, remembering that the helicopter’s missile had taken out one, if not more, of the house’s load-bearing walls. Wildly aware of the additional danger the house’s resulting structural instability now put him and Tilde in, Eggsy waited for the house to resettle and then quickened his pace down the corridor.

His and Tilde’s bedroom was the first door on the left, and Eggsy practically ran inside. This room was directly adjacent to the drawing room, and so the missile blast had managed to blow out a considerable portion — about a quarter — of the front-facing wall here as well. The remaining three quarters of wall still provided ample cover from the outside, however, for which Eggsy was endlessly grateful.

He quickly made his way towards his and Tilde’s bed, his heart hammering in his chest. He knew that time for Tilde was running out. He needed to immediately retrieve the Alpha-Gel from his Kingsman stash, concealed in the walk-in closet across the room, and apply it. Laying Tilde gently down on the bed, he performed a quick check of the opening in the wall to ensure that the helicopter hadn’t returned, and turned around.

The small black-clad figure from the security feed was standing in the doorway. Eggsy met its eyes, the only part of its face visible thanks to its hood and cloth mask, and for a moment which felt infinitely longer than it actually was, he and the figure simply looked at each other. With a deeply uncomfortable sensation, Eggsy felt a personal kind of recognition in the stranger’s gaze, and even more uncomfortably, he could swear that he had seen those dark-brown eyes before.

The moment passed. In one swift movement, the intruder unholstered a Taser gun from their hip and pointed it at Eggsy’s heart.

Even in the far-from-optimal state that Eggsy was currently in, his Kingsman training kicked in immediately. He expertly moved out of the line of fire of the Taser and positioned himself behind the intruder instead, with the intent of trapping them in a headlock. However, it was as if the intruder had seen this move coming. They escaped the headlock, with Eggsy ending up awkwardly grabbing a hold of their hood, which only resulted in him pulling the entire hood-mask combination off the intruder’s head. Long, straight, dark-blond hair spilled into the intruder’s face as she looked up at Eggsy, and Eggsy’s heart very literally skipped a beat.

‘ _Roxy?_ ’

Roxanne Morton, the young woman whom Eggsy had considered his best friend and whom he had thought dead for over a year, stood, very much alive, in front of him. But there was something very clearly wrong with her. She did not smile at Eggsy, or greet him; her expression remained a blank, emotionless veneer. In fact, all she did was raise her Taser again and point it back at Eggsy.

‘Rox, it’s _me_ —’ Eggsy began desperately, but was cut off as the house moaned and swayed again and the floorboards beneath his feet suddenly came apart. His right leg plunged about a foot into the space between the floorboards and the second-floor ceiling, and as the house shifted back into place, the floorboards did as well, closing on Eggsy’s leg like a vice.

Eggsy screamed in pain at the crushing pressure. He attempted to free his leg, but his struggling proved utterly futile. He looked around urgently, but there was absolutely nothing in his immediate vicinity that he could use to try to force the floorboards open.

Roxy blinked at the development and lowered her Taser, before holstering it entirely.

‘ _Fuck — Rox — help me —_ ’ Eggsy stammered.

‘The Asset has been secured,’ Roxy said, her voice robotic.

‘ _What?_ ’ Eggsy snapped, before realising that Roxy was talking into the small white headset in her left ear.

Roxy made no reply and walked over to Tilde instead, where she proceeded to check the princess’s neck for a pulse. ‘Target Three is deceased.’

‘ _No!_ ’ Eggsy cried out, resuming his vicious struggling. If Tilde’s heart had stopped pumping oxygen to her brain, and Eggsy didn’t even know how _long ago_ it had stopped, then he had mere minutes to apply the Alpha-Gel before Tilde’s brain would end up sustaining damage that even nanites wouldn’t be able to repair. ‘Please, Rox. _I can still save her._ ’

‘Preparing to integrate Asset,’ Roxy said into her headset, ignoring Eggsy again. She then proceeded to withdraw a curious-looking tool out of an inner pocket of her jumpsuit. It looked like a long, thin stainless-steel syringe, and Eggsy was immediately reminded of the syringe that had been used when he had gotten his pug microchipped.

‘Rox, please,’ Eggsy pleaded as Roxy readied the syringe. For the first time in his life, he was begging. ‘You don’t have to do this. Whatever it is they’re tellin’ you to do, _you don’t have to do it_. What do you say, Rox? You _know_ me. I can see it on your eyes. An’ you know Tilde too. We’re your _friends_. An’ you don’t wanna go hurtin’ your friends, right? … Right? … Rox? … For Christ’s sake, Roxy, _just look at me_.’

Having finished preparing the syringe, Roxy looked at him, and Eggsy waited, _prayed_ , to see _his_ Roxy behind those lifeless eyes again.

But she never appeared.

‘Proceeding to integrate,’ the stranger said, then began making her way back across the room to Eggsy.

With a horrible crack of timber, the house lurched yet again to the side, the movement proving too much for the house’s failing structural integrity this time. The ceiling above Roxy split open, and then collapsed on top of her, several heavy furniture items from the fourth-floor library collapsing with it, knocking Roxy unconscious and trapping her under a pile of rubble on the floor. Simultaneously, the floorboards on either side of Eggsy’s leg moved about an inch apart, and seizing his opportunity, Eggsy finally pulled his leg free.

‘OH, THANK _FUCKIN’_ FUCK,’ he bellowed triumphantly, turning on his heel and sprinting, as quickly as his injured leg allowed him, to the walk-in closet at the opposite end of the bedroom. Once inside, he approached the wall-mounted shoe rack and ran his fingers along the underside of the middle shelf until he located the small button concealed there, which he proceeded to press. A bright light descended onto his fingertips, scanning his fingerprints, and once his identity had been confirmed, the shoe rack slid aside, revealing Eggsy’s hidden Kingsman stash.

It had been accepted without question long before Eggsy and Tilde had moved in together that wherever Eggsy would go, his Kingsman arsenal would go with him. Which is why Tilde had had no objection to Eggsy and the agency installing the hidden compartment inside the closet without the king and queen’s knowledge. The compartment contained all of Eggsy’s weapons — the guns, explosives, and chemical weapons all carefully hung up on the wall, battle ready — but a drawer at the bottom also contained a comprehensive first-aid kit. It was from this drawer that Eggsy now removed a pack of Alpha-Gel, the only thing in the entire world capable of saving Tilde’s life at this point.

Alpha-Gel in hand, Eggsy sprinted back over to Tilde and proceeded quickly and carefully to first wrap the plastic bandage around her head, and then inject the two coloured liquids under the bandage. Instantaneously, the liquids reacted and the bandage swelled around Tilde’s head, and Eggsy sat down heavily on the bed beside her, complete and utter relief washing over him.

He allowed himself to simply sit and breathe for a few moments, before turning his attention to Roxy. Getting up off the bed, he knelt down on the floor beside his best friend’s unconscious form and checked her vitals. She was breathing and appeared uninjured, save for a few scrapes and bruises. She had dropped her syringe when the ceiling had collapsed on her, and Eggsy now picked it up off the floor, examining it closely. Not the faintest clue as to what it was supposed to do, he decided that he better bring it back to HQ and have Merlin and Ginger fuck around with it instead.

‘Oh, Rox … what the bloody hell have you gotten yourself into?’ Eggsy muttered, slipping the syringe into the inner pocket of his suit jacket, next to his glasses.

As if in answer to his question, machine gunfire unexpectedly rent the air, as the bedroom window behind him shattered and high-velocity bullets whizzed through the air around him.

‘Are you _fuckin’_ jokin’ me?’ Eggsy hissed, diving back onto the bed, wrapping his arms around Tilde, and throwing himself, with Tilde in tow, onto the floor on the other side of the bed. He could now plainly hear the thundering of the helicopter mixed in with the roar of the gunfire just outside the exterior wall of the bedroom. Clearly, having lost contact with their ground agent, the dickheads in the helicopter had decided to clean house.

Fortunately for Eggsy, Tilde, and Roxy, however, being at floor level put them completely out of the line of fire from both the window and the opening in the wall which had been created by the missile explosion, and Eggsy realised that the gunner’s only chance of hitting their targets would be to shoot directly through the outside wall of the house. Not quite so fortunately, the gunner seemed to have this same realisation just moments after Eggsy, and the gunfire suddenly moved to focus instead on the lower half of the outer bedroom wall.

Nevertheless, even a machine gun was bound to take at least a minute to blast its way through a solid stone wall, and so, Eggsy found himself with an unexpected opportunity to act. He considered his options. Try to find more cover by retreating further into the house? Useless, as the thin interior walls of the house would offer about as much protection from a machine gun as cardboard would. Attempt to leave the house? Out of the question, as there was absolutely no way in hell that Eggsy could carry both Tilde and Roxy out of the house within a minute’s time. Not to mention the fact that leaving the cover of the house, insignificant though it was, would turn them into nothing better than sitting ducks. Subsequently, only the third option remained, and that was to take out the helicopter.

With less than a minute to go until expected wall breach, Eggsy pushed Tilde’s body underneath the bed for protection, leapt onto his feet, and then sprinted back across the room to the walk-in closet. Giving his Kingsman arsenal a once-over, he lamented its lack of a grenade launcher, but quickly settled for the next-best thing: the fully automatic assault rifle. And now came the difficult part. Unlike the helicopter’s machine gun, Eggsy’s assault rifle wasn’t powerful enough to shoot through a stone wall. Therefore, Eggsy would need to fire from either the window or the opening in the wall in order to hit his target, which would in turn put him into the helicopter’s line of vision and ergo its line of fire. So, in order to succeed at the task at hand, Eggsy would need to locate the helicopter, aim, and take his shot _faster_ than the literal fraction of a second it would take for the gunner to notice him.

Luckily, Eggsy was an optimist.

With no time to waste, he burst from the cover of the walk-in closet and dropped to one knee at the opening in the wall, raising his rifle to his right shoulder. The helicopter hovered some hundred metres away, its port side to the house, the sliding panel side door opened to reveal the gunman inside. Eggsy dropped his right eye to the scope, aiming the rifle until he had the gunman in his sights. The gunman saw him then: for a millisecond, Eggsy looked directly into his eyes. Then the gunman moved to point his weapon at Eggsy, and Eggsy pulled his trigger.

The back of the gunman’s head blew out in a very satisfying manner, and he collapsed backwards onto the floor of the helicopter, the machine gunfire ceasing immediately.

Eggsy released the breath he’d been holding. ‘Shoulda brought another missile, dickhead.’

Clearly confused by the sudden loss of his gunner, the helicopter pilot turned the aircraft around to face the house, and Eggsy immediately opened fire on the cockpit. The bullets, however, merely bounced off the windscreen glass. Nevertheless, the pilot seemed to decide to not try his luck and turned the helicopter around once more, this time momentarily presenting Eggsy with its starboard side. An image of a white dove was stencilled there, the only distinguishing feature on the entire aircraft. The next moment, the helicopter turned tail entirely and began making its way back towards the setting sun.

Eggsy didn’t stop firing until his gun clicked empty. He sat back heavily on his arse, the gun clattering noisily to the floor, and watched the helicopter become nothing more than a dot on the horizon once again. His vision swam, and his left arm no longer felt warm, but rather cool, numb, and heavy. The adrenaline that had kept him going since the explosion was as good as depleted, and his injury was beginning to take its toll.

And yet his work was far from finished.

He picked up his rifle and forced himself back onto his feet, a wave of the lightheadedness that comes hand in hand with severe blood loss immediately hitting him like a freight train. After taking a few moments to simply regain his balance, he staggered back to the walk-in closet, where he hung the rifle back on its hooks on the wall. Although he knew that conventional first aid was out of the question for him — the awkward position of his injury made it impossible to even tie a simple tourniquet — he still proceeded to rifle fruitlessly through the first-aid compartment, marvelling at the fact that while Statesman had managed to develop the technology to deter the damage of a _headshot_ , they apparently had nothing of usefulness to offer someone with a mere flesh wound. So, resigning himself to the fact that he was shit out of luck as far as helping himself not bleed out before he, Tilde, and Roxy got to Kingsman HQ, Eggsy threw a shoulder holster over the outside of his suit jacket, equipped himself with a Kingsman-issue pistol and a pair of handcuffs, and then activated the mechanism to conceal the Kingsman cache back behind the closet wall.

What next? Eggsy implored his blood-deprived brain to not give out on him now. Oh, right: he needed to summon his private jet so he could fly himself, Tilde, and Roxy out of here, and he needed to call HQ and inform them that he was on his way and with whom. Both of these things he could do via his Kingsman glasses, which he now proceeded to remove out of the inner pocket of his suit jacket, where he had stashed them just before taking his ill-fated nap earlier that evening.

‘Motherfucker …’ he moaned, regarding the smashed lenses of the glasses with a strong feeling of being very, _very_ done with this shit, before throwing the glasses onto the closet floor in anger. He must have crushed them when he had landed on his chest during the explosion. Luckily for everyone in the room, however, he could still contact his jet by using his Kingsman watch, but as far as contacting HQ was now concerned? Considering that Eggsy had zero clue as to what had become of his and Tilde’s iPhones, he now had no choice but to wait until he had access to the comms to make the call.

Eggsy wobbled out of the closet and back towards his and Tilde’s bed, until he reached his bedside table and opened the top drawer. From inside he took out his watch and then fastened it around his left wrist, all the while chiding himself for having forgotten to put it on that morning. Finally, he used the watch’s interface to make contact with his jet’s autopilot and instruct it to immediately fly the jet to his current coordinates.

The tiny private jet, of Kingsman manufacturing of course, was to be found at a small, privately owned airport in a town some fifty kilometres from the royal cottage (the town being the cottage’s closest settlement), and for the past year, it had been Eggsy’s primary mode of transportation between Sweden, England, and wherever else in the world that his Kingsman duties had required him to go.

With the jet less than a minute away, Eggsy shifted his attention to the next order of business: getting himself, Tilde, and Roxy out of the house and down to the helipad. With both women at different levels of unconsciousness, Eggsy knew he had no choice but to carry them out, and so he prepared himself once more for the impending agony.

He decided to start with Tilde. Pulling her lifeless body back from under the bed, he swung her over his right shoulder again and stood up. Diverting all of his concentration to maintaining his balance, he then carried his wife out of the room and down the two flights of stairs to the main level of the house.

By the time they reached the helipad, the jet had already arrived, having used its state-of-the-art vertical-takeoff-and-landing capabilities to touch down quietly on the landing area. Carrying Tilde inside the small plane, Eggsy carefully lay her down across one of the bench seats, before allowing himself a few seconds to catch his breath.

The pain in his left shoulder was becoming torturous, but nevertheless, having gotten his breathing back under control, Eggsy trudged on, making his way back up the stairs of the half-destroyed house, which had at least stopped rocking on its foundations by now. Eggsy still had to get Roxy onto the jet, and that was bound to be an even greater challenge than getting Tilde there had been: when the furniture from the upstairs library had collapsed on top of Roxy, she had gotten pinned to the ground by a large bookshelf, still fully laden with books. Which meant that if Eggsy hoped to have any chance of getting Roxy out of the house, he first had to get her out from underneath the bookshelf. And considering his injury, that was easier said than done.

After thinking over all of his possible courses of action, Eggsy decided that his best option was to crouch, wedge his right shoulder underneath the edge of the bookshelf, and then lift it with his legs. The plan worked surprisingly well, and in just seconds Eggsy had the the bookshelf off Roxy and standing upright on the floor. And then the room went dark for a moment, and Eggsy found himself suddenly sitting on the ground. The room spun and spun, and when it didn’t stop spinning, Eggsy realised that the exertion of lifting the bookshelf had put him in serious danger of losing consciousness.

With no more time to spare, Eggsy got himself back into a crouching position and surveyed Roxy. Since there was still the possibility of her regaining consciousness and trying to hurt him and Tilde again, he wanted to be as prudent as possible about transporting her. She was obviously armed, with her Taser, a handgun, and a sheathed knife attached to a duty belt around her waist, so Eggsy quickly took the belt off and fastened it around his waist instead. Next, he took the pair of handcuffs which he had procured from his Kingsman cache out of the pocket of his trousers, and cuffed Roxy’s hands behind her back. Finally, he pulled his friend up over his right shoulder and stood up, swaying unsteadily on his feet.

It had taken him a minute to carry Tilde down to the jet. It took him over five to carry Roxy down, what with constantly having to stop to breathe and regain his balance. By the time he had deposited Roxy on the bench opposite Tilde’s, handcuffing her to the seat, he could barely stand. His injured shoulder screamed bloody murder at him, the pain so undeniable that it tinged the edges of his vision with white, and the entire length of his left arm felt cold and sticky with blood. He was on the verge of vomiting from vertigo, and attempting to think was like trying to tread through tar.

Nevertheless, the jet was finally ready for takeoff.

Eggsy stumbled into the cockpit and collapsed into the pilot’s seat, careful not to hit the piece of shrapnel in his shoulder on the seat’s back. In his current condition, piloting the plane himself was completely out of the question, but if he could simply feed a set of destination coordinates into the onboard computer, the autopilot would do the rest.

After a brief struggle, Eggsy’s muddled thoughts produced a set of coordinates, which he punched into the computer with trembling fingers. With a destination now in place, the jet immediately hummed into action, taking off vertically from the helipad. Eggsy frowned, feeling as if he was forgetting something. Wasn’t there something else that he was supposed to do? Call someone or something? He couldn’t remember. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against his seat. He was out before his head hit the headrest.

 

 

Harry was awakened by the sound of barking. Putting aside the book which he had been perusing until he had inadvertently drifted off, he put on his glasses and sat up in bed. The barking didn’t stop. With a long-suffering sigh, Harry got out of bed, put on his slippers and a bathrobe, and went downstairs.

‘Denver, I swear to God, if you are losing your mind because you saw a squirrel in the window again …’

But it wasn’t a window that had the young Cairn terrier’s attention this time — it was the front door. The small dog was going mad with excitement as he dashed up and down the front hall, letting loose volley after volley of obnoxious yipping.

‘Denver, there is absolutely nothing out there,’ Harry told him patiently. He could say this with certainty because any unwelcome visitor would’ve triggered one of the many perimeter alarms around his house, and his glasses reported that no such alarm had been set off.

Nevertheless, Harry knew well enough that there would be no appeasing his dog unless he actually opened the front door and _showed_ him that there was nothing behind it, so, marching confidently up to the door, he unlocked it and swung it open.

To his utmost surprise, Eggsy stood just beyond the threshold, and behind him, touched down on Harry’s front lawn, was Eggsy’s Kingsman jet, which of course wouldn’t have triggered any intruder alarms. Harry opened his mouth to utter a surprised-but-happy hello, but at that moment Eggsy stepped over the threshold and into the light of the hall.

Harry’s skin crawled as he almost didn’t recognise the person standing in front of him: Eggsy’s face was paper white, his normally vibrant eyes were dull and sunken, and his hair was stuck down to his forehead with sweat. The entire left sleeve of his powder-blue suit jacket was black and shiny with blood, and blood dripped from the fingertips of his left hand even as Harry watched, and no wonder, considering the large shard of shrapnel sticking out of the back of Eggsy’s left shoulder. The rest of Eggsy’s suit was torn, singed, and stained in several places. All in all, the normally boisterous young man looked fit for a date with the Grim Reaper.

‘The king and queen of Sweden are dead, Tilde has suffered a serious head injury, an’ Roxy is alive,’ Eggsy stated flatly, before he all but collapsed into Harry’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So as you can see, I wasn't kidding about the angst (or the setup), LOL. But at least Eggsy and Harry are together now? With a long road ahead of them, but still. So, loved it? Hated it? Lemme know in the comments, if you feel so inclined.


	2. Reunions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kingsman deals with the fallout, Eggsy gets his best friend back, and Harry makes an exception.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome aboard the angst train, everyone. Next stop: Eggsy and Roxy.
> 
> (So apparently Merlin doesn't have a last name in canon? So I gave him one? And because I was too lazy to come up with something original, it's a reference to another Matthew Vaughn movie? Hee.)

‘Well, well. I suppose I should cancel that taxi.’

Hamish MacTaggert, codenamed Merlin, and also _called_ Merlin by anyone who knew what was best for them, looked curiously, and knowingly, between the two Galahads standing in front of him and looking at each other as if the sun shone out of the other’s arse. Judging by the besotted looks on their faces, it seemed that the younger Galahad had just managed to bring the older one back from the twilight zone (because if anyone could, _of course_ it’d be bloody Eggsy). And was that a puppy in Harry’s arms? Bloody hell.

‘Yes, if you don’t mind … Merlin,’ Harry said, clearly making a point of using Merlin’s name to show that he recognised him.

‘Welcome back … _Galahad_ ,’ Merlin answered, using Harry’s codename for no reason other than to be a smartarse.

‘Thank you,’ Harry said. ‘It is good to be back.’

‘We better let Ginger and the rest know that you’re awake,’ Merlin continued. ‘Eggsy, would you go and deliver the good news?’

‘But —’ Eggsy began, immediately looking scandalised at the idea of leaving Harry’s side.

‘There’s no time to argue, lad,’ Merlin cut in. ‘While you fetch the Statesmen, I can begin debriefing Harry. We’ll cover more ground in less time this way.’

Eggsy still didn’t look pleased, but he at least didn’t try to continue arguing. Instead, with a final infatuated look at Harry, he practically sprinted from the room.

It brought Merlin no joy to have to separate the two idiots so soon after they’d been reunited, but there were matters that he needed to discuss with Harry alone. ‘We should talk in private,’ he said to Harry then.

‘There’s no one else here,’ Harry pointed out.

‘Yeah, but that’s a two-way mirror,’ Merlin said, motioning at the large mirror on Harry’s wall. ‘Come with me.’

Harry’s good eye widened in momentary horror at the revelation, and without further stalling, he set down his puppy and followed Merlin out of the room.

Merlin brought him around instead to the observation room on the other side of the mirror, currently empty, and in total silence, Harry approached the glass and watched his puppy sniff around the room on the other side. When he turned to face Merlin again, the horror in his eye had been replaced by abject rage.

‘I was being watched?’ he asked quietly. ‘This entire time?’

‘I’m afraid so, Harry,’ Merlin told his friend regretfully.

Harry released a steadying breath. ‘Where the fuck am I, Merlin? How did I get here? How long have I _been_ here?’

‘You’re still in Kentucky, Harry,’ Merlin answered calmly. ‘After you were shot by Valentine, you got picked up by an organisation called Statesman. They’re like the American Kingsman, so they’re richer and have less class. They used some of their fancy tech to save your life, but the price was that you lost your memories. You’d been here a full _year_ before Eggsy and I found you completely unintentionally just a couple days ago. We thought you were dead, Harry.’

‘Well, you had no way to know that I wasn’t,’ Harry said. ‘How did you get my memories back?’

‘The trick was apparently to trigger a traumatic memory from your past. Something I’m assuming Eggsy managed to do with the help of that puppy.’

‘Yes, he made me relive having to shoot Mr Pickle.’

‘That’s … actually quite brilliant,’ Merlin said, genuinely impressed by Eggsy. Then a thought occurred to him. ‘Harry, do you … do you _remember_ anything from the past year?’

‘I do, but everything is muddled,’ Harry said, his brows furrowing. ‘I feel as if I’ve just woken from a strange, year-long dream, in which I was sixteen again and fantasising about going off to university to study to be a lepidopterist. The last memory I have that feels real is that of Valentine shooting me in the face.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Merlin said, unable to fathom what it must be like to remember one’s own death. ‘But I think you’ll at least be happy to know that that psycho bastard is long dead.’

‘That _is_ good to hear, yes,’ Harry said, chuckling. ‘But it does raise a question: if you are no longer hunting Valentine, and if you weren’t looking for me, what _are_ you and Eggsy doing in Kentucky?’

Merlin released a pained sigh. He’d been dreading this moment ever since his friend had been revealed to be alive.

‘Harry, Kingsman’s been attacked. Eggsy and I followed the Doomsday Protocol, which brought us to Statesman.’

‘Kingsman is under attack every other week, Merlin. That’s how we know we are doing our jobs correctly.’

‘No, Harry. Let me rephrase. Kingsman’s been … destroyed.’

‘What do you mean, “destroyed”?’

‘Unfortunately, I mean it in the most literal sense. There was a missile attack. HQ. Every field office. Every residence that was on the database. Eggsy and I were the only agents to survive.’

Not even all of Harry’s years of spywork could conceal the utter devastation on his face. ‘You’re saying … everyone …? Arthur …? Percival …? Lancelot …?’

‘Aye,’ Merlin forced out bitterly, the mention of the last codename pouring salt in a wound that was still far too raw.

Harry, being Harry, recognised at once that he’d struck a nerve. ‘I’m sorry. About Lancelot, I mean. It’s always a pity to lose someone that young. Especially when she showed such great promise as a trainee.’

‘She was even more spectacular as a full-fledged agent,’ Merlin said fondly, feeling a familiar prickle start at the back of his eyes. He had cried more tears than he had thought he’d had in him for Roxy, and he was sure he would cry many more before this whole thing was done and over with. ‘Fuck, Harry. We didn’t even find a body. Incinerated in the fucking blast. Gonna be burying an empty casket when we get home.’

‘If you didn’t find her body, is there not then the possibility that she survived the explosion?’ Harry offered. ‘She could have made it to one of the blastspaces in time.’

‘You think I didn’t check the blastspaces?’ Merlin snapped. ‘How stupid do you think I am?’

‘Then perhaps she had already left the premises by the time you arrived.’

‘And _not_ proceeded to make contact with Eggsy or me? Not a chance. I _know_ her, Harry. Duty always came first for her. If she were still alive, she’d have let us know.’

Merlin took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes tiredly. What Harry was currently doing, the woebegone Scot had already done a million times: considered every possibility, run every scenario, weighed every outcome, all with the intent of determining the probability of Roxy’s survival. And in every single case, his conclusion had been the same: that Roxanne Morton was, unquestionably, dead.

Harry was looking at Merlin shrewdly now. ‘Merlin, did something … happen … between you and Lancelot?’

‘She asked me on a date,’ Merlin admitted heavily.

‘And? What did you say?’

‘“No”, of course,’ Merlin said, bewildered by why Harry would even ask such a question. ‘Reminded her of the regulation, and that was that.’

Harry scoffed at him. ‘That regulation is bullshit, and you know it.’

‘The regulations are there for a reason, Harry, and _you_ know it. Besides, could you even imagine it? Someone like Roxy being with a miserable old sod like me?’

‘Yes, actually,’ Harry said.

‘Excuse me?’ Merlin put his glasses back on, crossed his arms, and fixed Harry with a calculating stare. He was pretty sure that Harry had just insulted Roxy, and he was _very_ sure that he wasn’t above punching a one-eyed man in the face.

Harry seemed to catch his meaning immediately. ‘I just mean … I thought you two had a certain chemistry,’ he clarified.

‘Yeah, well, no amount of chemistry would’ve saved her from a sodding missile,’ Merlin said sarcastically. ‘I’m currently trying not to focus on the what-ifs, Harry, and instead trying to deal with the reality of what _is_ , and since you’re being of no help at all, I’d appreciate it if you simply dropped the subject. Just be thankful _your_ boy’s still alive.’

‘Eggsy isn’t _mine_ , Merlin,’ Harry said quickly.

‘He isn’t?’ Merlin asked. ‘Could’ve fooled me then, considering he’s practically embodied your image. Got your position, your title, even your house. Oh, and about your house … that _did_ get blown up along with the other Kingsman properties, I’m sorry to say.’

‘Eggsy lived in my house?’ Harry asked softly, since apparently not even the news of his home’s destruction could top the revelation that Eggsy had lived there.

‘Oh, yes,’ Merlin said with a chuckle. ‘Specifically _asked_ for the house to be transferred to his name after your death, then kept it exactly as is like some kind of fucking shrine to you. Even took up your tradition of collecting front pages of newspapers. Honestly, the whole thing was a bit creepy, if you ask me.’

And there it was again, the same disarmed expression on Harry’s face as he’d had when Merlin had walked in on him and Eggsy. The same smitten smile. The same enamoured glaze over his eye.

‘Holy shit,’ Merlin said. ‘You’ve finally realised it, haven’t you?’

‘Realised what?’ Harry said dreamily.

‘That you’re in love with Eggsy, you daft git,’ Merlin stated, suppressing a visceral desire to facepalm.

‘I am not!’ Harry burst out, snapping back to reality in an instant.

Merlin smirked at him. ‘Gotta admit, I did have my doubts, but _that_ schoolboyish attempt at a denial has sure as _heck_ just squelched them.’

Harry glared at him in response, but then gave out a deep, resigned sigh.

‘Oh, this is bloody spectacular!’ Merlin continued, now that Harry seemed to no longer be attempting to argue. ‘What made you finally realise it?’

Harry sighed again. ‘When I got my memories back, and recognised Eggsy, his face … it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. I felt as if I was somehow seeing him for the very first time.’

‘Ah, so no wonder you were looking at him like he’d fucking hung the moon and stars when I walked in,’ Merlin said, grinning at Harry while the latter looked more and more flustered. ‘Not that the boy looked any less lovesick. And now that I think about it, you two _did_ spend those very personal twenty-four hours together. Tell me, were some or _most_ of those hours spent in your bed?’

Harry looked more horrified at that question than he had at the revelation that people had been watching him shower for a year. ‘Honestly, Merlin?’ he said disgustedly. ‘Your depravity knows no bounds.’

‘I’m sorry, but if you think two adults having consensual sex is _depraved_ , then you’re a prude, Harry,’ Merlin said incredulously. ‘Which I know you’re not, so what’s the issue?’

‘Merlin, Eggsy was a mere trainee at that time, and I his direct superior,’ Harry explained, still looking deeply uncomfortable. ‘Any kind of sexual or romantic relationship between us at that point would’ve been highly inappropriate. And before you start with how Eggsy isn’t a trainee _anymore_ and that I should therefore make my move _now_ —’

‘Actually … I was gonna tell you the complete opposite,’ Merlin said carefully, cutting Harry off. Harry looked at him questioningly, and Merlin couldn’t help but feel a pang of pity for his friend. ‘Harry … Eggsy’s in a relationship. And it’s pretty serious from what I can tell.’

‘What?’ Harry asked, looking genuinely confused. ‘With whom?’

‘Princess Tilde,’ Merlin answered, bracing himself for the impending shitstorm.

‘Tilde? As in the Swedish princess that went missing?’

‘Aye, that’s the one. Eggsy rescued her, and she was _very_ grateful, let’s just put it that way.’

‘So allow me to get this straight, Merlin …’ Harry forced out slowly. ‘You denied yourself a relationship with Roxanne, a perfectly suitable romantic partner, but you allowed Eggsy, who is supposed to be a fucking _spy_ , to form a relationship with the _crown princess of Sweden_ , one of the most public figures in all of Europe?’

‘Well, when you put it like _that_ , of course it’s gonna sound preposterous,’ Merlin replied defensively. ‘But you have to consider the circumstances, Harry. Eggsy hadn’t been properly knighted yet when he met Tilde, so he wasn’t yet aware of the regulations. And when the time came to make his knighthood official, well, considering everything that he and Tilde had been through, I just couldn’t force myself to put an end to them. Eggsy was broken, Harry, after Valentine, after the world going to shit, after … losing you. I swear, I had never seen a person grieve for another human being as deeply as he grieved for you. I thought that Tilde would help him heal and, eventually, move on. Can you really fault me for wanting that for him?’

‘No … of course not,’ Harry conceded, as Merlin knew he would. ‘There is absolutely nothing in this world that I want more than Eggsy’s happiness, and if Tilde makes him happy, which she must if they are as serious as you say they are, then I will not get in their way.’

‘I knew you wouldn’t,’ Merlin said, mustering a small, sad smile for his friend. ‘Sorry to say it, but you are one poor bastard, Harry Hart.’

‘Well, aren’t we two peas in a pod then?’ Harry asked, returning Merlin’s barely there smile.

That actually managed to draw a dark chuckle from the Scot. ‘We are indeed,’ he said, and then held out his hand for Harry to shake. ‘I _have_ missed you, you daft git.’

‘As I you, old sod,’ Harry replied, shaking Merlin’s hand warmly. ‘Or rather, as I _would_ have missed you had I had any idea who you were this past year.’

Merlin was about to retort with with a snarky comment of his own, but at that moment the door of the observation room was swung open and Eggsy, Ginger, Champ, and Whiskey filed in.

‘Oh, there you two are,’ Eggsy said in relief, as if he’d been afraid he’d lost Harry again. ‘Harry, I’d like you meet our new allies.’ He gestured at the American agents. ‘Everyone, I’d like you to meet Harry Hart. The _real_ Harry Hart.’ He smiled stupidly at Harry.

‘It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance,’ Harry said, smiling around at the Statesmen.

‘Well, I’ll be damned,’ Champ growled, stepping forward to shake Harry’s hand. ‘Welcome to Statesman, Mr Hart. I’m Champ, the head of this here establishment.’

‘I look forward to working with you,’ Harry said.

‘I don’t know if you remember me,’ Ginger said tentatively, approaching Harry next, ‘but I’m Ginger Ale, Statesman’s Strategy Executive.’

‘You are the kind doctor who took care of me all these months,’ Harry replied, with genuine warmth in his voice. ‘Of course I remember you.’

Ginger looked considerably relieved to hear that. ‘Sorry about all … this,’ she said, motioning at the two-way mirror and the butterfly-ridden room beyond it. ‘Please know that everything we did was with the intention of helping you.’

‘Of course,’ Harry said kindly. ‘And I could never repay your organisation for saving my life. I only hope that my sincerest thanks will be sufficient.’ He held out his hand to Ginger, and Ginger shook it with a warm smile.

‘My, my. Looks like Butterfly Guy’s finally flown his glass case.’ Finally, it was Whiskey who walked up to Harry, proceeding to shake the older agent’s hand forcefully. ‘I’m Jack Daniels, but the codename’s Whiskey.’

‘You don’t say,’ Harry said, raising one unimpressed eyebrow.

‘So, how’d you do it, kid?’ Whiskey continued, addressing Eggsy now. ‘How’d you wake the lepidopterist? You didn’t have to kiss him, did you?’

‘I have been debriefing Harry on everything he’s missed over the past year,’ Merlin said very loudly, before Eggsy had a chance to so much as open his mouth.

‘Oh, excellent,’ Champ said, clapping his hands together. ‘What do y’all have left to cover?’

‘I suppose … only what we’ve got on the Golden Circle,’ Merlin answered.

‘Which is presently shit all, so at least that means it shouldn’t take long to finish the debrief,’ Champ responded. ‘Whiskey, Galahad, why don’t you boys help Merlin bring Mr Hart up to speed on the current thorn in our conjoined side. Ginger — I need _you_ to fill _me_ in on what the _hell_ is going on with Tequila.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Ginger said, and with that, she and Champ took their leave.

‘How’re you holdin’ up, Har?’ Eggsy asked immediately. ‘If you need a break, we can always continue the debrief later.’

‘If I’m being honest, I don’t think I need a break as much as I need a stiff drink,’ Harry replied.

‘So why don’t we kill two birds with one stone?’ Whiskey interjected. ‘Finish the debrief _over_ a stiff drink?’

‘You’ll bring us a bottle of something then?’ Merlin asked hopefully.

‘Fuck, no,’ Whiskey said, smirking. ‘Come on, fellas. Why would anyone wanna drink here when there’s a perfectly good saloon just down the road?’

 

* * *

 

Eggsy drifted closer and closer to consciousness, becoming aware of his surroundings a single sensation at a time. At first it was the smaller things: the feel of a soft mattress under his back; the sterile smell of gauze and bandages in the air; the constant, steady beeping of a heart rate monitor. Then it was the realisation that he wasn’t alone, confirmed by the feeling of a warm hand on top of his, a thumb rubbing endless, soothing circles into his skin. And finally, there was a voice:

‘Arthur here. … That is wonderful news. Excellent work, Ginger. … Nothing at all? … I see. … Yes, very strange indeed. But have you considered the possibility of the cause being psychosomatic? After all, we haven’t the faintest idea of what she’s been through. … Yes, I agree. In that case, perhaps you ought to show her the security footage from the cottage, see if that will help jog her memory? … Excellent. Thank you, Ginger. Please keep me posted.’

It was _Harry’s_ voice, and Harry’s presence could only mean one thing — that Eggsy was _safe_. And as long as Harry didn’t leave his side, Eggsy felt that he could stay in this sweet, drug-induced oblivion forever. But then what was this feeling of unease suddenly tugging at his unconscious mind with such intensity? And why the growing agitation and unrest? And then all of a sudden, Eggsy’s memories came hurtling back into his consciousness like missiles into a family home, and he found himself being thrown head first back into reality.

He woke with a start, shooting up in bed and looking around himself frantically, feeling as if the wind had been knocked out of him.

‘Easy, Eggsy — easy,’ came Harry’s comforting voice from beside him. ‘It’s alright. You’re alright.’

‘Tilde —’ Eggsy choked out.

‘Is alive,’ Harry said. ‘All thanks to your expertly administered Alpha-Gel. She is getting nanite treatment as we speak.’

‘An’ Roxy?’

‘Also fine. In fact, Ginger has just informed me that Miss Morton seems to be back to her old self.’

‘Oh, thank fuck …’ Eggsy muttered in relief, letting himself fall back onto his pillows, the blaring of his heart rate monitor subsiding back to a steady beep.

‘How do you feel?’ Harry asked him gently, once the younger agent had had a chance to catch his breath.

‘Like some arsehole used my left shoulder as a punchin’ bag for three hours straight, but I’m happy my arm is still attached to my body,’ Eggsy answered honestly, turning to smile appreciatively at Harry, who sat in a chair beside Eggsy’s bed. ‘What happened? How’d I get to the infirmary?’

‘You don’t remember?’ Harry asked, raising his brows at Eggsy.

Eggsy shook his head. ‘Last thin’ I remember is gettin’ Tilde an’ Roxy onto my jet an’ then collapsin’ in the pilot’s seat. No recollection whatsoever of what happened after that.’

‘So you don’t remember coming to my house?’ Harry continued in disbelief.

‘ _I came to your house?_ ’ Eggsy spluttered, just as incredulous.

‘Oh, yes,’ Harry answered. ‘Where you proceeded to promptly pass out in my arms. I had to carry you back to your jet, fly the jet myself over to HQ, and deliver you, your wife, and Miss Morton to the infirmary. You immediately received a blood transfusion and nanite treatment for your shoulder. You will have a scar, but no serious damage was sustained.’

‘That’s … great,’ managed Eggsy, who had mostly tuned out after the mental image of being _carried_ by Harry had popped into his brain.

‘Eggsy, what were you thinking?’ Harry said then, his tone suddenly gravely serious. ‘Setting your autopilot to bring you to my house instead of directly to HQ? Ginger said that you were _minutes_ from bleeding out when I finally got you here. You almost _died_ , Eggsy. Why would you waste precious time like that?’

It was a good question, and although Eggsy didn’t exactly remember what had been going through his head at the time, he _could_ make an educated guess. ‘Honestly, I think I was so gone from shock an’ blood loss by that point, I was goin’ on autopilot myself,’ he said sheepishly. ‘So I automatically entered the coordinates of the place where I feel safest. An’ … well, that’s wherever you are, Harry.’

The older agent’s good eye widened behind the lens of his Kingsman-issue glasses, and Eggsy suddenly realised that his little confession wasn’t exactly the most platonic thing to say to the man who was supposed to be nothing more than his good friend and direct superior. Worse yet, Harry said absolutely nothing in response, the only sound in the room the increasing rhythm of Eggsy’s tattletale heart rate monitor. Feeling the heat rise in his face, Eggsy quickly unhooked himself from the monitor.

‘So, what’ve we found out so far from Roxy?’ he forced out, desperate to change the subject. ‘What the fuck happened to her?’

‘An excellent question, but one to which I unfortunately do not have an answer,’ Harry said. ‘You see, Agent Lancelot doesn’t actually seem to _remember_ what happened.’

‘Shit,’ Eggsy said.

‘My thoughts exactly,’ Harry agreed. ‘Now, I _have_ instructed Ginger to show Lancelot the footage from your house that was taken during the attack. If Miss Morton’s amnesia is being caused by her subconsciousness blocking traumatic memories, then perhaps showing her a recording of some of said memories will help dismantle that block.’

‘So the footage _did_ stream to our servers then?’ Eggsy asked. ‘I was worried the CCTV system might’ve gotten damaged in the blast.’

‘No, we got it all, and I have watched through it several times now,’ Harry said. ‘It was a helicopter that attacked you, am I correct? It wasn’t caught on any of your cameras, so I am going based on audio alone.’

‘Yeah, that’s what it was,’ Eggsy confirmed. ‘Huge motherfucker, with a mounted machine gun. Definitely military grade, but _whose_ military, I haven’t the slightest clue. Two men. I took out the gunman, but the pilot had a bulletproof windscreen. Oh, an’ the chopper had a white dove painted on the side.’

Harry nodded. ‘Not much to go on, but could be useful nevertheless, so please include it in your report. Merlin will want to know every single detail possible. He is currently examining the items taken off Lancelot, and last I heard he hadn’t had much success in tracing a source for any of them.’

A thought occurred to Eggsy at the mention of Merlin’s name. ‘Does Roxy know yet? About Merlin? Or you? Or _anythin’_?’

‘Not yet,’ Harry said. ‘She has only interacted with Ginger so far, and I specifically asked her to hold off on debriefing Lancelot for the time being.’

‘I need to see her, Harry, please,’ Eggsy said, trying not to think about how lost and confused Roxy must be feeling right now. ‘An’ Tilde too.’

‘Of course,’ Harry said straight away. He motioned at the other, unoccupied, chair beside Eggsy’s bed, on which a pile of clothes was neatly folded. ‘The suit you were wearing during the attack was completely destroyed, so I brought you another one of yours from home. From my house, I mean. Your oxfords are on the floor beside the bed. Oh, and …’ He reached into the pocket of his trousers and took out a black leather case, which he opened to reveal a pair of glasses. ‘Since you seem to have misplaced yours.’

‘Yeah, mine kinda … broke,’ Eggsy said with a guilty smile, taking the case gratefully from Harry. ‘Thanks, Har. You’re the best.’

‘I’ll wait outside while you change,’ replied Harry, always the gentleman, before rising from his seat and leaving the room.

Eggsy put on his new glasses and got out of bed, finding himself wearing a hospital gown and thankfully also his pants and socks. Taking off the gown, he examined his injured shoulder, which was bandaged and definitely still hurt like a motherfucker, and then proceeded to dress himself in the shirt, suit, and tie which had been provided by Harry. Eggsy’s Kingsman watch and signet ring had been taken off him and were presently sitting on top of the bedside table, so he quickly returned them to their rightful places on his left wrist and right little finger, respectively. Finally, he put on his shoes, still dusty from the cottage, and, feeling back in his own skin, proceeded to meet Harry out in the corridor.

‘I can see Tilde first, yeah?’ he asked the senior agent.

‘She’s just a few doors down,’ Harry said. ‘Follow me.’

‘Hold on,’ Eggsy said, falling in beside Harry. ‘If Ginger’s with Roxy, an’ if Merlin’s currently goin’ through Roxy’s stuff, then who the hell is monitorin’ Tilde?’

Harry chuckled. ‘The best nurse we could find on short notice.’

Before Eggsy could ask who the fuck _that_ was, Harry swung open the door on their right and led him inside a room very different from what Eggsy’s had been, this particular room filled with medical equipment on a technological scale beyond anything one would find in a regular hospital, including a high-tech operating table that wasn’t meant for operations at all, but was rather specifically designed for the nanite treatment of head wounds. Tilde lay on the table, clearly still in the middle of treatment, and on a chair beside her sat none other than Tequila.

‘Howdy, boys!’ he drawled upon catching sight of Eggsy and Harry. Although he, like Ginger, was currently on lease to them from Statesman, he had, in Eggsy’s opinion, so far utterly failed in conducting himself like a proper Kingsman, starting with his complete refusal to wear his Kingsman suits outside of missions, preferring instead his usual garb of a straight-out-of-a-western cowboy.

‘Him?’ Eggsy asked Harry unenthusiastically. ‘ _Really?_ ’ Although he knew it was irrational, Eggsy had developed a certain dislike for the American ever since the latter had threatened to shoot Harry in the head.

‘Egg Boy!’ Tequila continued happily. ‘Glad to see you’re already back on your feet! Here’s hopin’ I’ll be able to say the same for your missus soon.’

‘Why isn’t she outta that machine yet?’ Eggsy demanded, checking his watch, which showed 4:23 p.m. ‘It’s been almost twenty-four hours since we got attacked, so what could possibly be takin’ this long? From what I recall, it only took your mate Whiskey about an hour to get _his_ head fixed.’

‘Firstly,’ Tequila said, his tone immediately losing its previous warmth, ‘that traitor wasn’t my mate. And secondly, his headshot was a clean through and through, whereas your lady here came in with a head full of shrapnel. Ginger spent all night gettin’ that shit out, after which the princess went straight into this machine. Her brains got scrambled pretty bad, hence why it’s takin’ so long, kid.’

Eggsy swallowed heavily. ‘Do you know how much longer it’s gonna take?’

‘Way this baby works,’ Tequila said, patting the nanite machine, ‘it could be another five minutes or another five hours. That’s why I’m stationed here like a veritable watchdog.’

Eggsy walked over to Tilde and looked down at her pale face apprehensively. ‘Could I have a moment? Alone?’

‘Sure thing, Galahad,’ Tequila said, getting out of his chair. ‘Come on, Butterfly Guy. Let’s give the boy some privacy.’

Harry nodded and followed Tequila out of the room, leaving Eggsy alone with his wife.

Eggsy sighed deeply, taking hold of Tilde’s hand. Although they hadn’t been happy in their marriage for months now, he still cared for her with every inch of his being, and seeing her like this was breaking his heart.

‘I’m so sorry, T, for everythin’,’ he whispered, meaning every word. ‘I promise I’ll make it up to you.’

He let go of her hand then, leaving her in the care of the nanite machine, and joined Harry and Tequila out in the corridor.

‘The _moment_ she wakes up —’ he began.

‘I’ve got both you and Ginger on speed dial, don’t you worry,’ Tequila assured him.

‘Good,’ Eggsy said, actually managing to feel a hint of gratitude for the cowboy. ‘Harry — I think it’s time we go see Roxy.’

Roxy’s room turned out to be on the opposite side of the infirmary from Eggsy and Tilde’s rooms, and Eggsy felt fit to burst with nervous excitement by the time he and Harry reached the door.

‘Ginger, it’s Harry,’ Harry said into the comms of his glasses once he and Eggsy had arrived. ‘Eggsy and I are outside.’

Moments later, a completely frazzled-looking Ginger burst from the room, quickly closing the door behind herself. She looked as if she hadn’t slept in two days, which Eggsy figured was a very likely possibility.

‘Oh, hey, guys,’ Ginger said absently, squinting at Eggsy and Harry through bloodshot eyes. ‘Oh, Eggsy, good to see you up! How’s your shoulder?’

‘Fantastic,’ Eggsy said with a genuine smile. ‘Thanks for patchin’ me up, G. An’ for savin’ Tilde’s life. An’ for bringin’ Roxy back. Honestly, I can’t thank you enough.’

‘You don’t have to thank me for doing my job, Galahad,’ Ginger replied, waving away Eggsy’s thanks like a swarm of pesky flies. ‘Do you hear me thanking _you_ every time you cover my butt on a mission?’

Eggsy grinned. Unlike Tequila, Ginger made an exemplary Kingsman in Eggsy’s eyes. She had even taken well to wearing the Kingsman suits, even now dressed in a fine example of Kingsman tailorship.

‘Any progress with Miss Morton?’ Harry asked then.

Ginger slumped against the wall behind her with an exhausted sigh. ‘None whatsoever. I showed her the footage from the cottage like you’d asked, Harry, but it didn’t trigger the resurgence of any memories. It did, however, understandably make her very upset. She doesn’t believe she’s at the new Kingsman headquarters, nor does she trust me when I say I’m with Kingsman. I’m at the end of my wits here.’

‘Do we have any idea how she was mind controlled?’ Eggsy asked. ‘I’d never seen anythin’ like it. It’s like she knew who Tilde and I were an’ was completely aware of what she was doin’, but was totally powerless against the orders of her handlers. Like she was some kinda Winter Soldier.’

‘Some kind of what?’ Harry asked.

‘Oi, Harry,’ Eggsy said. ‘Really?’

Harry blinked at him.

‘Never mind,’ Eggsy said. ‘G?’

‘While Miss Morton was still unconscious, I performed a scan of her body and found _this_.’ Ginger withdrew a small plastic evidence bag from the inside pocket of her suit jacket and held it out for Eggsy to see. ‘I surgically removed it from under the skin at the base of her skull.’

Eggsy squinted at the single item inside the bag: a metal capsule about the size of a very large grain of rice. ‘What the fuck is it?’

‘Good question, and Merlin and I are working on it,’ Ginger said. ‘The only thing I can tell you so far is that there was an identical capsule inside the syringe you took off Miss Morton.’

‘Which means her mission wasn’t to kill Eggsy, but rather turn him into a fellow puppet,’ Harry deducted pensively. ‘Now, is there any possibility this capsule is also what’s responsible for her amnesia?’

‘That’s my primary theory, yes,’ Ginger said.

‘So we’re dealin’ with subcutaneous implants an’ a technology that makes you lose control of yourself?’ Eggsy asked incredulously. ‘If I hadn’t killed him myself, I’d’ve said this is Valentine’s work.’

‘What we’re dealing with is on a level far beyond anything Valentine ever concocted,’ Ginger said. ‘Same theory perhaps, but this is technology I’ve never seen before.’

‘I’m sure you and Merlin will figure it out,’ Harry said encouragingly. ‘But now, I do believe it’s high time I bring Agent Lancelot up to date on everything she has missed over the past fifteen months.’

‘Harry, no,’ Eggsy said immediately. ‘If _you_ walk in that room, Roxy’s gonna think she’s fuckin’ _dead_ an’ has ended up in some bonkers afterlife with you. _Or_ she’s gonna think there was a zombie apocalypse. So maybe let’s not _open_ with the dead man walkin’ an’ lemme do the debrief instead?’

‘Alright, I see your point,’ Harry concurred. ‘Go ahead then — Ginger and I will wait out here.’

‘Thanks, Har,’ Eggsy said, and then, composing himself, he walked through the door.

Roxy stood with her back to him, looking out the window of a room much like Eggsy’s had been. She wore a Kingsman suit which he recognised to be one of Ginger’s, arms wrapped around herself, and was apparently so lost in her own thoughts that she didn’t even notice Eggsy’s arrival.

‘Rox?’ Eggsy asked tentatively, walking up behind her.

Roxy jumped and spun around at the sound of his voice, looking not unlike a deer in the headlights. ‘ _Eggsy?_ ’

‘Roxy!’ Eggsy said happily, immediately going in for a hug, only to have Roxy shy away from his touch as if it might burn her.

‘What — What are you doing?’ she asked breathlessly.

‘Tryin’ to give my best friend a hug?’ Eggsy said in bewilderment, finding himself overwhelmed by the strangest sense of déjà vu.

‘How … How can you possibly want anything to do with me?’ Roxy whispered, her eyes wide. ‘After what I did?’

‘What?’ Eggsy asked, his bewilderment intensifying. ‘You haven’t done nothin’ wrong, Rox.’

‘I was gonna let Tilde die …’ Roxy continued, looking petrified. ‘And — oh, God — _Tilde’s parents_. And who knows what I would’ve done to _you_ if that ceiling hadn’t collapsed on me.’

‘Tilde’s gonna be fine,’ Eggsy said quickly, hoping desperately to ease his friend’s conscience. ‘An’ so am I. An’ you didn’t kill Tilde’s parents — the arseholes in the helicopter did.’

‘But I was _with_ them, wasn’t I?’ Roxy snapped, her anguish now manifesting as anger. ‘And what about the guards? I killed them all, Eggsy. Innocent people just trying to do their jobs. Their blood is on my hands and on my hands alone.’

Before Eggsy could say anything in response, Roxy turned away from him and walked over to her bed, sitting down heavily and burying her face in her hands. After a few moments, Eggsy joined her, sitting down beside her but ensuring to keep a healthy amount of distance this time.

‘Rox … those things you did, that wasn’t you, OK?’ he told her gently. ‘You had no control over what you were doin’. It’s like what happened to Harry in the church. You wouldn’t say it was _his_ fault for killin’ all those people, would you? He didn’t know what he was doin’, an’ neither did you.’

‘Do you really mean that?’ Roxy asked, lowering her hands to reveal a face streaked with tears.

‘Jesus Christ, Roxy, of course I do,’ Eggsy said, still utterly clueless as to how Roxy could possibly not understand. ‘I would _never_ blame you for this. Don’t you see? If there’s anyone to blame, it’s _me_.’

‘What’re you talking about?’ Roxy asked, her brow creasing in confusion.

‘The helicopter,’ Eggsy said, his hands balling into fists of their own accord. ‘The moment I saw it, I shoulda realised it wasn’t comin’ from Stockholm. I shoulda known. I shoulda …’

He trailed off, closing his stinging eyes and releasing a long, shuddering breath. He’d finally said aloud the thing which had been eating away at him ever since his memories of last night had come rushing back to him. He couldn’t believe that someone else hadn’t already called him out on his blatant incompetence, but he supposed that everyone had just been trying to protect him from the shame.

‘So you were _expecting_ a helicopter?’ Roxy asked. ‘From Stockholm?’

‘Yeah,’ Eggsy said. ‘We was expectin’ the Swedish Prime Minister an’ her husband for dinner. Second Tuesday of every month. Tilde’s parents came too, but they always arrived in the mornin’, hence why they were already there when the attack happened.’

‘So what would you have done had you realised the helicopter wasn’t from Stockholm the moment you saw it?’ Roxy asked pointedly. ‘Blown it out of the sky based on nothing other than it not belonging to the people you were expecting?’

‘Well, no, of course not,’ Eggsy admitted. ‘But I would've done _somethin’_. Grabbed my weapon, gone to warn Tilde an’ her mum and dad, _anythin’_. I just … I shoulda done _more_.’

‘Eggsy, you were hit by a bloody _missile_!’ Roxy cried out. ‘And you _survived_ , which is a miracle in and of itself. But not only did you survive, you also somehow managed to save Tilde. And … you saved me, the person who attacked you in the first place. That’s above and beyond anything that could’ve _possibly_ been expected of you.’

Eggsy didn’t reply, feeling full-on tears well in his eyes as the image of the king and queen’s mangled bodies floated in front of him. He thought about Tilde, currently lying in blissful ignorance in the nanite machine, and imagined what his next conversation with her would be like. The tears fell, hot and jarring against his cheeks, and his guilt threatened to overpower him.

‘I mean it,’ Roxy said, suddenly reaching out and taking his hands in hers. ‘If I’m not allowed to blame myself, then you’re not allowed to blame yourself either.’

And the next moment they were holding each other and crying into each other’s shoulders, Eggsy’s face full of Roxy’s hair and her familiar scent, and it finally fully hit him: he had his best friend back.

‘Fuck, I missed ya _so_ fuckin’ much, Rox,’ he said in between sobs. ‘You’ve got no fuckin’ idea how much I missed ya.’

‘Oh, I’m beginning to get the idea,’ Roxy replied, half-laughing, half-crying as she rubbed Eggsy’s shuddering back. ‘And I couldn’t be happier to be home, Eggs.’

They remained hugging for what felt to Eggsy like a solid three minutes, until Roxy suddenly pulled away, looking at Eggsy as if he’d just sprouted fairy wings.

‘Wait, Eggs, how’re you even out of bed right now?’ she asked. ‘Didn’t you have a piece of metal about the size of your head sticking out of your back less than twenty-four hours ago?’

‘Kingsman’s seen a few … _improvements_ in our medical field since you went missin’, Rox,’ Eggsy explained. ‘We use nanites now. Tilde’s actually gettin’ her treatment as we speak.’

‘“Nanites”?’ Roxy asked.

‘Yeah,’ Eggsy said. ‘They’re like microscopic robots that get injected into your bloodstream an’ circulate around your system. Repair tissue damage within _hours_.’

‘And do they … stay in your body … for the rest of your life?’ Roxy asked uncomfortably.

‘Nah, you usually pass ’em in about a week or two,’ Eggsy replied, holding back a chuckle at the horrified expression on Roxy’s face.

‘Bloody hell,’ Roxy said, rubbing her temples. ‘Nanites … This new base … Makes me wonder what else I’ve missed since I got kidnapped.’

‘Rox …’ Eggsy said slowly, ‘… do you really remember _nothin’_ since gettin’ taken?’

‘I wish I could tell you otherwise, Eggs, but no, I don’t remember anything,’ Roxy replied with a sigh.

‘What’s the last thin’ you _do_ remember then?’ Eggsy asked.

‘I was at HQ, in my room, on my laptop,’ Roxy began, in the same matter-of-fact tone as she normally used when delivering an oral mission report. ‘As you should recall, this was shortly after I had helped you impress Tilde’s parents via gross misuse of Kingsman technology.

‘At that time, I saw an incoming-missile alert appear on my laptop, so I immediately proceeded to make my way to the blastspace in the floor of my bedroom. I managed to secure myself inside just as the missile hit. The blastspace performed exactly as intended, saving my life, though I still suffered multiple minor external injuries and was rendered unconscious by the force of the explosion.

‘I do not know how long I was out, but once I had come to and emerged from the blastspace, I found myself at the bottom of the crater of debris which had been created by the blast. My glasses had been shattered, and I was not wearing my watch, so I had no way to ring for help or to indicate that I was still alive. I had no choice but to make it out of the wreckage on my own.

‘I estimate that the climb took me just short of an hour, and when I reached the top, they were waiting for me. Three, dressed in the same hoods, masks, and jumpsuits as I was in the footage from your cottage. By that point, due to my injuries and the exertion of the climb, I could barely stand, let alone fight. Two of them pinned me face down on the ground, and the last thing I remember is a piercing pain in the back of my neck. Then … nothing.’

For a long moment, Eggsy was utterly speechless, blown away by his friend’s unparalleled survival instincts, quick thinking, and perseverance. But at the same time, he was disappointed that Roxy’s account had shed no further light on the identities of the perpetrators.

‘An’ there’s absolutely nothin’ else you remember about the people who attacked you?’ he therefore asked Roxy desperately.

‘No,’ Roxy said. ‘Wait — yes. They had a helicopter.’

‘With a white dove painted on the side?’ Eggsy guessed.

‘Yes!’ Roxy exclaimed. ‘How did you know?’

‘The helicopter that attacked me an’ Tilde had a dove too,’ Eggsy answered. ‘Appears to be a trademark of some sort.’

‘If it is, then it’s not something that came up in my research,’ Roxy said pensively.

‘What research?’ Eggsy asked, attempting to follow Roxy’s train of thought and failing miserably.

‘The research I was doing before I got taken?’ Roxy said, looking confused by Eggsy’s confusion. ‘On the people who attacked us? The ones Charlie’s running errands for? I mean, I know I’ve been gone a while, but I’m assuming the working theory is that this is all the same organisation, right?’

‘What — no,’ Eggsy said quickly. ‘The people Charlie was workin’ for, the ones who sent the missiles, that was the Golden Circle. As to who kidnapped you, we currently have no soddin’ clue.’

‘So … according to you … Kingsman got attacked by one organisation one night, and then _literally the very next night_ I got kidnapped by a completely different organisation?’

‘I know it sounds ridiculous, but the people who kidnapped you _couldn’t_ have been with the Golden Circle, trust me,’ Eggsy said, though he was no longer sure he even trusted himself. ‘You see, the Circle wasn’t too keen on takin’ live prisoners. That’s … That’s why we didn’t go lookin’ for you, Rox. We thought you got killed along with the other agents.’

‘Wh—What?’ Roxy stammered.

Eggsy’s eyes almost popped out of his head as he realised what’d just come out his big mouth. In all his excitement to talk to Roxy again, he’d completely forgotten that it’d entail him having to deliver some of the absolute worst news that he could possibly imagine delivering to someone. He now mentally slapped himself in the face, completely lost for words.

Thankfully, Roxy managed to find her tongue first.

‘HQ wasn’t the only place the Golden Circle hit that night, was it?’ she asked quietly.

‘No,’ Eggsy said gravely.

‘Who else?’

‘Arthur an’ all the field agents except for me, all because by some dumb luck I was at Tilde’s that night. Brandon ended up gettin’ the fuckin’ missile instead of me.’

‘Are you … Are you telling me Percy is dead?’ Roxy asked, shutting her eyes.

Eggsy looked down at his hands, currently folded in his lap. ‘He’s buried in the Kingsman plot at Kensal Green.’

Without saying a word, Roxy rose swiftly from the bed and went to stand again at the window.

‘Shit, Rox, I’m so sorry,’ Eggsy said, getting up as well and walking over to Roxy’s side. ‘I know Perce was the only family you had. Fuck — I didn’t mean to tell you like that. I — I shoulda waited —’

‘Waiting would’ve made no difference,’ Roxy muttered, wiping at her eyes. ‘What about Merlin? Was he …? Did he …?’

Eggsy decided not to let _that_ cat out of the bag yet and said simply, ‘Merlin ain’t gone, no.’

Roxy breathed a sigh of relief, then turned to face Eggsy. ‘How the fuck did this happen?’

‘Charlie,’ Eggsy said bitterly. ‘His fuckin’ robot arm hacked my cab an’ got access to the identities and locations of all the active agents.’

‘That fucking traitor …’ Roxy whispered. ‘And to think that we trained with him … shared quarters with him … put our _trust_ in him …’

‘I know, Rox,’ Eggsy said calmly. ‘Trust me, I know. I felt all the same rage you’re feelin’ now. But guess what? We got ’em. The Golden Circle. The bitch who ran it. An’ Charlie? I killed him with my bare hands.’

‘Did he suffer?’ Roxy asked darkly.

‘Well, I _did_ beat the shit outta him with his own robot arm right beforehand, so I’m gonna say … oh, yes.’

Roxy actually smirked at that. ‘Still sounds like he got off easy, but nonetheless, I’m thankful to hear that’s over with. How did you and Merlin manage it? Taking down a criminal organisation of that scale, just the two of you?’

‘It wasn’t exactly the two of us,’ Eggsy said. ‘We had help. After Kingsman’s destruction, our search for answers an’ allies brought us to Kentucky of all places, an’ to Statesman, who’re like … our American cousins, if ya will? The Circle was a common enemy, so we worked together to brin’ ’em down.’

‘An American Kingsman?’ Roxy asked, raising her eyebrows. ‘Sounds like a joke.’

‘Nah, most of ’em are alright,’ Eggsy said with a laugh. ‘We wouldn’t be rebuildin’ Kingsman if not for their help. An’ _please_ don’t get Merlin started on their tech. Unfortunately he’s got no memories of our time _at_ Statesman thanks to gettin’ himself blown up at the end of it all, but —’

‘I’m sorry, did you just say _“blown up”_?’ Roxy burst out. ‘Eggsy, you told me Merlin _wasn’t dead_.’

And once again, Eggsy found himself cursing his inability to think before he spoke. ‘I said he ain’t _gone_ , which he _ain’t_ ,’ he attempted to clarify at once. ‘But he _is_ dead, yeah. I mean, that kinda happens when you step on a landmine.’

‘Eggs, what the actual _fuck_ are you talking about?’ Roxy spat furiously in response, apparently none the clearer. ‘How can someone be _dead_ , but not _gone_?’

Eggsy put his hands up in surrender. ‘Maybe — Maybe I should let Merlin take this one himself, before I fuck this debrief up completely.’

‘You mean I can _speak_ with him?’ Roxy demanded.

‘Well, yeah, of course,’ Eggsy said, proceeding to ring Merlin on his glasses. ‘Just gimme a sec.’

Moments later, the familiar Scottish brogue sounded in Eggsy’s comms: ‘ _Merlin here._ ’

‘Hey, Mer,’ Eggsy replied, watching Roxy’s eyes light up. ‘It’s Eggsy.’

‘ _Eggsy!_ ’ Merlin exclaimed warmly. ‘ _Good to hear your voice. How’re you feeling? What can I do for you?_ ’

‘I’m feelin’ great, thanks for askin’,’ Eggsy answered. ‘But listen, I’ve got someone here who I’m afraid will have my head if I don’t let her speak to you. She ain’t got her glasses yet, but I’ll just patch you through to my feed an’ put you on speaker, yeah?’

With that, Eggsy proceeded to first put his glasses into speaker mode, and then give Merlin access to the live video feed from his glasses, effectively allowing Merlin to see everything Eggsy saw. Finally, Eggsy turned to Roxy and winked.

‘Roxy …’ Merlin’s voice rang out across the room, and Eggsy didn’t fail to notice how much it wavered. ‘It’s wonderful to see you again, Agent Lancelot.’

‘Merlin — thank God,’ Roxy breathed out, relief washing over her face. ‘Eggsy told me you were _dead_.’

‘Unfortunately … the lad didn’t lie,’ Merlin said awkwardly.

‘Then … how am I talking to you right now?’ Roxy asked quietly.

‘Well, that’s one hell of a story, but I’ll try my best to explain,’ Merlin said with a pained chuckle. ‘Do you remember my pet project, the one I was working on before Kingsman got attacked?’

‘You mean your virtual assistant? The AI?’

‘Yes, exactly. And do you remember how close I came to creating one?’

‘Yes. You told me the sourcecode was all there, but you just didn’t know how to upload a personality into the program. Why are you asking me all this?’

‘Because let’s just say that I _did_ end up finding a solution to that slight snag after all.’

Eggsy watched Roxy’s eyes widen with realisation as the pieces finally fell into place for her.

‘ _You’re_ the AI,’ she said, in a barely audible murmur.

‘Aye,’ Merlin said. ‘After the Golden Circle’s attack, I knew that I might be the only agent left, not to mention that I could very well be next, which put me in the very difficult position of ensuring the continued protection of Kingsman’s highly sensitive data should I also come to meet my end. Now, this was something that I could’ve easily entrusted to my AI, but as you recall, the blasted thing was still missing a personality.’

‘So you uploaded your own,’ Roxy concluded, still looking as if she didn’t quite know how to feel about the current situation.

‘Precisely,’ Merlin said. ‘It hit me that I could simply scan my own brain, upload my own personality, my own memories, my _essence_ , if you will, into the program. Create this backup version of myself that could continue keeping Kingsman’s data safe should the original me not make it. And … well … he didn’t make it, so here I am.’

‘And you’re now … what?’ Roxy asked blankly. ‘Just a disembodied voice in Kingsman’s comms?’

‘Oh, I am far from only in the comms,’ Merlin said excitedly. ‘I am also here.’ Suddenly, the computer terminal on the desk beside the window powered on. ‘And here.’ The lights in the room switched off and then back on again. ‘And even here.’ Roxy’s hospital bed rose slowly into a sitting position. ‘I also pilot one _very_ impressive drone, if I may say so myself.’

‘So basically what Merlin’s sayin’ is that he still does all the same shit that he used to do when he still had a body … an’ sat at a computer all day,’ Eggsy said cheekily.

‘Shut it, Eggsy,’ Merlin snapped, though Eggsy could hear the humour in his voice. ‘I didn’t _just_ sit at a computer when I had a body.’

Roxy was rubbing her temples again, looking as if she were on the verge of a migraine. ‘Eggsy, _please_ tell me this is the last of it. Honestly, I’m not sure how much more of this I can handle.’

‘Well … there is _one_ more thin’ …’ Eggsy said slowly.

‘Oh, God,’ Roxy said. ‘What is it?’

‘Aren’t you wonderin’ who the new Arthur is?’ Eggsy replied.

A text message from Merlin appeared immediately across Eggsy’s holographic viewscreen: ‘ _fucking hell! she doesn’t know yet?_ ’

‘I don’t know, Eggs,’ Roxy was saying exasperatedly in the meantime. ‘Another ex-agent brought out of retirement?’

‘You know what?’ Eggsy said, flashing Roxy a mysterious smile. ‘You _technically_ ain’t wrong.’ He dismissed Merlin’s message from his viewscreen and then used his glasses to patch himself through to Harry and Ginger. ‘Arthur? Agent Whiskey? Will you come in, please?’

A moment later, Harry and Ginger walked in the room.

‘Hello again,’ Ginger said shyly.

‘Agent Lancelot,’ said Harry, with a polite nod at Roxy. ‘Welcome back to Kingsman.’

‘I need to sit down,’ Roxy said, once she’d finished picking her jaw up off the floor.

‘Of course,’ Harry said. ‘Anything you need.’

‘Way to make an entrance, Arthur,’ Merlin said accusingly, while Roxy went to deposit herself back down on her hospital bed.

‘Oh, hello, Hamish,’ Harry replied. ‘I see you didn’t waste any time in coming to introduce yourself.’

‘ _How?_ ’ Roxy finally managed from the bed, flapping a hand in Harry’s general direction. ‘Sir, we saw you _die_.’

‘No, you saw me get shot,’ Harry said. ‘What you _didn’t_ see is the woman standing beside me then save my life.’ He looked appreciatively at Ginger, who smiled back.

‘I’m assuming she’s from Statesman?’ Roxy inferred. ‘If the accent is anything to go by.’

‘Yes, she is,’ Harry replied. ‘And I owe her agency everything for saving my life and ensuring my wellbeing until Eggsy and Merlin found me.’

‘You’re saying you were with Statesman the entire time we thought you were dead?’ Roxy asked, looking offended. ‘Why didn’t you return to Kingsman as soon as you were better? How could you just … _abandon_ your duties like that? How could you do that to _Eggsy_?’

‘Whoa, Rox, it wasn’t like that,’ Eggsy interjected. ‘The procedure Harry got done that saved his life — the same one Tilde’s gettin’ done now — it repairs the brain, but there’s consequences. You lose your memories an’ all sense of self, an’ you normally regress to a younger version of yourself. When me an’ Merlin got to Statesman, Harry had no idea who he was.’

‘Oh, that sounds absolutely horrible,’ Roxy said, looking sympathetically at Harry. ‘I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t know.’

‘It’s quite alright, Lancelot,’ Harry said kindly.

‘We normally have no problem bringing an agent back from that regressed state,’ Ginger explained. ‘All we have to do is “shock” the afflicted person back to reality by recreating a traumatic memory from their past. But in Harry’s case, since we had no knowledge of his past prior to us finding him, that became easier said than done. If it weren’t for Eggsy, I doubt we would’ve been able to bring him back at all.’

Roxy turned to look inquisitively at Eggsy. ‘I’m impressed, Eggs. How did you do it?’

‘I got Harry a Cairn terrier puppy and then threatened to shoot it,’ Eggsy said proudly.

‘Eggsy!’ Roxy exclaimed. ‘That’s terrible!’

‘Hey, it got the job done, didn’t it?’ Eggsy retorted indignantly.

‘Yes, I suppose that it did,’ Roxy conceded, continuing to look curiously, and knowingly, at Eggsy. ‘And I’m sure we must all be _very_ happy about that.’

Eggsy cleared his throat loudly. ‘ _So._ Roxy. Ginger. I suppose I can now properly introduce you two, yeah?’

Roxy stopped staring at Eggsy and diverted her attention to Ginger instead. ‘Oh, right. Of course.’ She got up from her bed and walked over to Ginger to shake the American agent’s hand. ‘“Ginger”, is it?’ she asked the older woman. ‘I thought you told me you were Agent Whiskey?’

‘“Whiskey” is my Statesman codename,’ Ginger answered. ‘Though I prefer to be called that only on missions, as it still leaves a bad taste in my mouth. The real name is actually Elizabeth, but I’ve been going by “Ginger” since my teenage years.’

‘And how exactly does one get “Ginger” out of _“Elizabeth”_?’ Roxy asked perplexedly.

Ginger gave out an exasperated laugh. ‘You dye your hair an atrocious shade of red _once_ in high school, and apparently the nickname sticks with you for the rest of your life.’

‘I like “Ginger”,’ Merlin chimed in out of nowhere. ‘It suits you.’

‘Aw, thanks, sugar,’ Ginger said.

‘Anytime, doll,’ Merlin replied.

Roxy blinked rapidly, looking as if she’d just been insulted to the core of her being. ‘So, _Ginger_ ,’ she continued coldly, crossing her arms, ‘Eggsy tells me that Statesman is quite the technological marvel. Might _you_ then be able to tell me how someone was able to turn me into a mindless puppet?’

‘I wish that I could, but before today I wasn’t aware that such technology even existed,’ Ginger said honestly. ‘I mean sure, the CIA’s MKUltra program sought to create the ultimate soldier through the use of mind control, among other things, but as far as I’m aware the closest they ever came was implanting electrodes in dogs’ brains to remotely make the dogs run, turn, and stop.’

‘Oh,’ Roxy said tonelessly. ‘And here I was thinking that I’m like the Winter Soldier.’

‘Yes!’ Eggsy exclaimed triumphantly. ‘Thank you!’

‘As much as we are all interested in the “how”,’ Harry said then, ‘I think that the “who” makes for a far more pressing question.’

‘Speakin’ of “who” …’ Eggsy said, ‘… Harry, you don’t think the Golden Circle is somehow responsible?’

‘Eggsy, the Golden Circle is destroyed,’ Harry said. ‘We saw to that ourselves, as you should recall.’

‘Yeah, but what if we missed somethin’?’ Eggsy asked. ‘Or what if the Circle was workin’ with another organisation? I mean, think about it: the people who kidnapped Roxy knew not only who she was an’ the location of our HQ, but they also knew to show up the exact night of the Circle’s attack. Bit of a coincidence, innit?’

‘May I remind you that everyone who ever worked for or was affiliated with the Golden Circle is either dead or in prison, and those who are in prison were thoroughly interrogated before being placed there,’ Harry replied. ‘And yet there was not a single mention of another organisation. However … you are right. The coincidences are one too many. Which is why I think it’ll be a good idea for me to get back in touch with our dear friend Elton. Whether he likes it or not, he was closer to Poppy Adams than most of her henchmen, especially the surviving ones. Perhaps he ended up overhearing something he shouldn’t have during his stay as Poppy’s unwilling guest.’

‘Thanks, Har,’ Eggsy said. ‘I didn’t even think to rin’ up Elton. I wonder what that old queen’s been up to — it’s been since my bloody weddin’!’

‘So … you and Tilde tied the knot, huh?’ Roxy asked, reaching over to tap the golden band on Eggsy’s ring finger with her fingernail.

‘Oh … yeah,’ Eggsy said awkwardly. ‘Been a little over a year now.’

‘Congratulations!’ Roxy said. ‘But … Eggsy … I have to ask: a spy marrying a princess? How in the world have you managed to keep your cover from getting blown?’

‘Very, _very_ carefully,’ Eggsy answered. ‘Startin’ with not broadcastin’ the weddin’ on TV. Not that it prevented my face from gettin’ plastered on the front page of every Swedish newspaper an’ magazine for the next —’ Eggsy broke off, a thought striking him like a sledgehammer to the head. ‘ _Fuck me, Harry,_ ’ he moaned, whipping around to face the older man again, ‘it’s already all over the fuckin’ news, ain’t it?’

‘What is?’ Harry asked, looking bemused.

‘The attack on mine an’ Tilde’s place,’ Eggsy clarified with a groan. ‘My face. My name. My entire _life_. Fuckin’ hell, an’ I was _just_ beginnin’ to do missions in Europe again.’

‘Eggsy, it’s alright,’ Harry said. ‘There’s been nothing in the news as of yet.’

‘What?’ Eggsy asked in surprise. ‘How the fuck not?’

‘A combination of good luck, and good judgement on the part of the Swedish government, it seems,’ Harry answered. ‘The secluded location of your cottage ensured that there were no witnesses to the explosion, and the Swedish Prime Minister and her husband, who were the first to arrive on the scene, had enough sense to contact the national police directly, rather than go through the regional police department. Last I heard from our contacts in Sweden, the Prime Minister has made it clear that there should be no mention of the attack or of the king and queen’s deaths to the media until such time as the police will have actual answers to provide to the people.’

‘So no one outside the Swedish government an’ police knows yet?’ Eggsy asked, relieved.

‘The families of the victims have been notified and interviewed, and INTERPOL has been brought into the loop,’ Harry said.

‘Someone talked to my mum?’ Eggsy demanded, his sense of relief evaporating as quickly as it had formed.

‘Yes, she has been informed of the attack,’ Harry confirmed.

‘So … my mum and sister prolly think I’m dead right now …’ Eggsy concluded, feeling his heart descend into the pit of his stomach.

‘I’m sorry, Eggsy,’ Harry said, reaching out to squeeze Eggsy’s shoulder.

‘I don’t understand,’ Roxy spoke up. ‘Don’t the Swedes have access to the same security footage as we do? I mean, they should be able to see from the video recordings that Eggsy and Tilde survived, shouldn’t they?’

‘No, actually,’ Harry said. ‘The security system in Eggsy’s cottage was programmed to stream all data over the air to be stored exclusively on Kingsman’s servers — all part of safeguarding Eggsy’s Kingsman identity. As such, we are the only ones who have access to that data now.’

‘Harry?’ Eggsy said, having just thought of something far more concerning than the possibility of his family believing him dead.

‘Yes, Eggsy?’ Harry said.

‘Are my mum an’ sister at home right now?’ Eggsy asked, his heart now slowly rising into his throat.

‘Yes, I believe so,’ Harry answered. ‘Why do you ask?’

‘Because,’ Eggsy said, trembling slightly, ‘if whoever went after me an’ Tilde is still after us, they, like the Swedes, might think it a good idea to pay our families a visit.’

‘And the Swedes have already prepared for that possibility by providing your family with a security detail, Eggsy,’ Harry said reassuringly.

‘Bloody hell, Harry, a security detail’s gonna do fuck all if they have to face off against another Winter Soldier like Roxy!’ Eggsy retorted hotly. ‘Actually, you know what? Why am I even talkin’? I’m goin’ over there. I’ll protect ’em myself.’

‘We really cannot spare an agent right now, Galahad,’ Harry said heavily.

‘And I really don’t care, Arthur,’ Eggsy snapped in response, making his way towards the door.

‘What if there was another way?’ Harry suggested.

‘Nope, ain’t no other way,’ Eggsy said, his hand on the doorhandle. ‘I ain’t trustin’ no one but a Kingsman agent with this.’

‘What if we brought your family here?’

Eggsy froze halfway out the door, then stepped back into the room and turned around to stare at Harry, slack jawed.

‘Your mother recognised me,’ Harry proceeded to say, once it became apparent that Eggsy was in too much shock to say something first.

‘What,’ Eggsy finally stated flatly.

‘When you introduced us at your wedding, she recognised me,’ Harry reiterated. ‘I saw it in her eyes.’

‘But if she did recognise you, then she’d know I’ve been lyin’ to her, an’ she’s said nothin’ to me, Har,’ Eggsy responded uncertainly.

‘Perhaps the reason she hasn’t said anything is because she knows you’d have no choice but to continue lying to her even if she did,’ Harry said. ‘But now is your opportunity to remedy that.’

‘You’re serious then?’ Eggsy asked. ‘You’re actually lettin’ me brin’ ’em _here_? To HQ?’

‘Well, if I can’t send my agents to those in danger, then the only other option is bring those in danger to my agents,’ Harry said.

‘Then I’ll go now,’ Eggsy said urgently, turning towards the door again. ‘I’ll — I’ll be back in like two hours —’

‘No, Eggsy, I’ll go,’ Harry said. ‘You wouldn’t want Princess Tilde to wake up and you not be here.’

‘Oh … yeah,’ Eggsy said. ‘Of course.’

Harry left the room, leaving Eggsy staring dumbfoundedly into space, still not quite believing what was happening. Then, feeling like a complete idiot, the young agent also ran out of the room.

‘Harry!’ he called, chasing after the senior agent down the corridor.

Harry turned around just as Eggsy caught up with him, and Eggsy threw his arms around Harry’s neck and pulled him into a hug, the intoxicating scent of the older man’s aftershave sending an immediate chill of pleasure down Eggsy’s spine.

‘Thank you,’ Eggsy whispered into Harry’s shoulder.

After a moment of seeming deliberation, Harry responded by taking a step towards Eggsy, effectively closing whatever little distance remained between them. He bent to accommodate Eggsy’s slighter frame, his left hand coming to rest gently at the small of Eggsy back, while his right stroked the sensitive spot between Eggsy’s shoulderblades.

‘Did you really think that I would leave your family unprotected?’ he muttered into Eggsy’s hair.

Eggsy let go of Harry with an embarrassed laugh, feeling very silly indeed now. ‘I just got freaked out,’ he said. ‘I dunno what I’d do with myself if somethin’ happened to Mum an’ Dais.’

‘I wholeheartedly understand,’ Harry said.

‘Oh, hey, Har?’ Eggsy said, grinning mischievously. ‘Can you make sure my mum brings JR an’ Silas with her?’

‘You read my mind,’ Harry said, his good eye twinkling knowingly. ‘I’ll be back as soon as I can. You have absolutely nothing to worry about, Eggsy.’

And with a final comforting squeeze of the younger man’s shoulder, Harry turned and disappeared through the door to the staircase, leaving Eggsy feeling light as a feather, his heart fit to burst with the overwhelming love and appreciation that he felt for one Harry Hart.

‘Eggsy? Merlin?’

Eggsy turned around at the sound of Ginger’s voice to see Ginger and Roxy walking towards him down the corridor.

‘Just wanted to let you guys know that I’m going to steal Roxy for a couple of hours,’ Ginger continued. ‘Now that we know her amnesia isn’t a case of repressed memories, I’d like to rule out the possibility of a physiological cause. My initial exam showed no sign of head or brain trauma, but I think a bit of additional testing won’t hurt.’

‘Good idea,’ Merlin said.

‘Sure thin’, G,’ Eggsy added. ‘Rox, we’ll see you in a bit, yeah?’

‘ _Great,_ ’ Roxy said, looking entirely unenthused, but nevertheless allowing herself to be led off to the nearest examination room.

‘Well, as fun and deeply disturbing as it’s been to experience the world through your eyes, Galahad,’ Merlin said, ‘I do have actual work to do.’

‘Yeah, OK, Mer,’ Eggsy said with a smirk. ‘Just don’t let the door hit you on your way outta my feed.’

Merlin responded by growling some Scottish incoherency on the other end of the line, and with that, Eggsy was left to his own devices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So as you guys can prolly tell, I (along with basically the rest of the Kingsman fandom) absolutely, 100% refuse to believe that Roxy's dead. But as for Merlin, as heartbroken as I am to say it, I think that he truly did die, and I am sad that I couldn't come up with a way to bring him back that also let him keep his body.
> 
> Alrightie, so we're putting on the brakes on the angst in the next chapter (at least a little), and there's gonna be some fun Hartwin scenes as well, yay!


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